The Chocolate Chip Incident
by Amy-Violet
Summary: Sam and Blaine bake a cake together, which leads to messing around...and disaster.
1. Thursday: Cake

Blaine was walking to Spanish class when out of nowhere he heard, "Dude, you gotta help me bake a cake."

He hadn't even seen or heard Sam approaching. How did he sneak up on him like that? Also...what? "Why, you have a sweet tooth all of a sudden?"

Sam was walking along with Blaine now, although he didn't have Spanish next period. "I've always had a sweet tooth. But it's not for me. My mom's coming to visit."

"Aw, that's sweet."

Wow, that was kind of an awkward silence.

"I mean, I didn't mean _sweet_," Blaine said. "I meant, you know, nice. Thoughtful. That's all."

"Right. So anyway, I've never baked a cake, and I figured you probably have."

"Actually, no. Cake baking isn't one of the required gay arts."

"Dude, sorry! I didn't mean to assume..." Sam put a hand on Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine melted a little.

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't tease you," Blaine said, although the idea of _him_ teasing _Sam_ was kind of absurd, if you thought about it. Not that Sam teased him intentionally. Even though he knew about the crush, he still didn't understand how big an effect every single touch had. "I can't offer any expertise, but I'd be happy to try and figure out a recipe with you, if you want."

"You're awesome, dude." They arranged to meet at Blaine's house that evening and Sam hurried off to his own next class.

XOXOXO

Cheerios practice ran late. Blaine had planned to get a burger or something afterward, but he had to speed straight home if he even wanted to get in a shower before Sam got there. In fact...yeah, he decided he'd better leave a note on the front door for Sam to come in, just in case he wouldn't hear him knocking.

He showered quickly, or as quickly as he could anyway. It took some time to wash out all the gel and condition his hair. He dried off, combed his hair back, hung the towel up to dry, stepped into his bedroom to get dressed, and—

Jesus Christ, there was Sam, sitting on his bed! Looking right at him!

He may have shrieked a little; he wasn't really sure. He was sure he slammed the bathroom door pretty hard, after he had jumped back in there.

Sam, meanwhile, was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. "Dude!" he managed to call out between his guffaws. "Your note said to come in!"

"Yeah, but I didn't expect you to wait for me on my bed," Blaine yelled through the door. Wait, did that sound too suggestive? Nah, it wouldn't sound suggestive to Sam. Only to Blaine. "Could you, um, grab my blue robe out of the closet and hand it to me?"

"Chillax, dude. I've seen you naked in the locker room a hundred times."

"Yeah, but..." But not when it was just the two of them. In his bedroom.

"I promise I'm not gonna check out your junk."

Blaine wrapped the towel around his waist and reluctantly sidled out of the bathroom. Sam, thank god, pretended to be interested in the chemistry textbook on the bedside table. Blaine turned his back to Sam and held onto his towel tightly while he grabbed boxers out of his dresser.

Sam said he wasn't going to look, but what if he did? Which would be worse, Sam catching a glimpse of his butt, or Sam seeing him try ridiculously to pull his underwear on under the towel? He dropped the towel and put the boxers on. He glanced in the mirror and saw that Sam _was_ watching him.

"Sam! You said you weren't going to look!"

"I said I wouldn't check out your junk. Your ass is not the same as your junk."

"Yes it is. 'Junk' is a collective term that applies to everything down there."

"No. 'Junk' means your cock. And maybe balls—I'm not sure about that."

"Then how can girls have junk?"

"Girls _don't _have junk. Trust me. I've seen way more girls' junk than you have."

"Aha!" Blaine exclaimed triumphantly.

"You know what I mean, man," said Sam as he lay back on the bed. "For someone so shy about his junk you sure have been standing around in your undies for a long time."

Blaine felt his cheeks grow warm, but he tried to play it cool by not running to the closet immediately. "Sure, it doesn't matter now. You've already seen my junk."

"Okay. Okay, fine." Sam stood up and started unfastening his belt.

"Sam? What are you doing, Sam?"

Sam unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. "If you're so freaked out that I saw your ass for half a second, I'm gonna let you look at mine so we'll be even."

"No, no. That's really not necessary. Sam, I don't want to see your ass..." What the hell was he saying? He wanted very much to see Sam's ass. He just didn't want Sam to know how much he wanted to see it.

And anyway, even if Blaine had actually not been interested, there was no stopping Sam at this point. He had already turned around and pulled his jeans and briefs down low enough for Blaine to get a good look. He couldn't look away, in fact. Sam's ass was incredible. Round yet muscular. Smooth. Soft to the touch, or so Blaine imagined...

Okay! Time to put some pants on! Like, before something became very obvious. He spun around toward the closet, picked out some not too tight jeans, and put them on. Add an old Warblers t-shirt that he didn't mind getting cake batter on and he felt composed enough to face Sam again. And if he had secretly hoped that Sam would still be partially undressed, well, he would have been disappointed.

XOXOXO

Blaine found his mother's favorite cookbook and carried it into the kitchen. Sam was waiting, sitting on the counter and swinging his legs. And not just swinging them, but watching them swing. He looked kind of adorable, especially when he glanced up at Blaine through the hair that was falling in front of his eyes.

"Dude. Is that _The Joy of Sex_?"

"What? No, no. Cooking. _The Joy of Cooking_."

"Oh. Too bad. Sex sounds more joyful. Joyful? Joyous? What do I mean?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Blaine. He was instantly afraid his response had come out sounding prissy.

"All right." Sam slid off the counter and clapped his hands together. "I guess we should get started. What does it say we should do?"

Blaine opened the book and leafed through until he got to the cake section. "Uh, what kind of cake do you want to make?"

"Chocolate, duh," Sam said.

"Okay..." He flipped around, looking for a good one.

Sam was behind him suddenly, resting his chin on Blaine's shoulder and trying to get a look at the cookbook. "What's wrong? Can't find anything?"

"No. I mean yeah." He couldn't formulate a simple thought with Sam standing so close to him. "I mean, how does this one look?"

Instead of, say, walking around Blaine to get closer to the book, or picking up the book and walking to the table or somewhere with it, Sam just leaned closer to the where the book was lying on the counter, which meant he pressed himself right up against Blaine.

"Seriously, Sam? Do you do it on purpose?" Blaine muttered.

"What? Do what on purpose?"

"Nothing," Blaine said. He didn't think Sam's innocence in asking the question was faked. "Never mind."

"Okay. So...yeah, this one looks fine."

"Good. Let's see..." Blaine looked at the cookbook. "Well, we need to melt some bakers' chocolate. I don't even know what bakers' chocolate is. I bet we don't have any."

"Dude, it's just chocolate you use for baking. You've gotta have some." Sam started rummaging through the cupboards. _I am definitely going to have to straighten up before my mom gets home_, Blaine thought. "Here." Sam threw him a bag of chocolate chips, spilling some sugar onto the counter in the process.

"Uh, okay." This didn't seem right to Blaine, but what did he know? It _was_ the only kind of chocolate he had ever baked with. Of course, the only thing he had ever baked were chocolate chip cookies. He looked back down at the book. "We have to melt these with some butter. I'll get a pan if you can grab, uh, a cup of butter from the fridge." Blaine did not trust Sam messing around with his mothers' arrangement of pots and pans.

"Sure. Where's a measuring cup?"

"I think the sticks of butter have the measurements printed on the wrappers."

Blaine's phone rang as he was getting out the saucepan. "Shit, it's my mom." Why had he said shit? It wasn't like he and Sam were doing anything wrong. Still, he stepped into the living room before answering.

"Hey, mom. What's up?"

"Blaine, I'm going to be late tonight. I thought I could finish up this project by five, but—"

"Yeah, that's fine, mom." He really didn't feel like hearing about the project or why she couldn't finish it by five. Not right now. He'd try to take an interest in her work later, when Sam wasn't around.

"You'll find something to eat?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Well, I don't want to keep you from your work."

"You're sweet, honey. You know, I _would _have had it done yesterday, except..." Blaine tuned her out. What was Sam doing? he wondered. In the middle of her story about...whatever it was she was talking about...there was a loud beeping from the kitchen.

"Sorry, mom. It looks like I better check on my dinner. Love you!" Blaine's kitchen featured a stove with very hot burners, paired with a very sensitive and very loud fire alarm. The alarm going off was a frequent enough occurrence that it didn't cause anyone in the family to panic.

Sam looked a little freaked out, though. He was jumping up, trying to turn the alarm off when Blaine returned to the kitchen. "Sorry, man! I don't know what I did." He managed to knock the entire alarm off the ceiling. Well, at least that stopped it.

Blaine calmly turned the burner off. "Don't worry about it. It happens all the time. I should have warned you not to turn the burner up to max." He opened all the kitchen windows to let the smoke out.

Sam looked at the melted chocolate-butter mixture skeptically. "It doesn't look too good."

Blaine took a look. "No, but it'll probably be fine once it cools. We should wait a while for the smoke to clear anyway." He led Sam into the family room, which was farther from the kitchen than the living room. Also it had the TV. "So, uh, you wanna watch a movie or something? Or would you rather just show me your butt again?" Good Lord, why did he say that?

Sam just smiled though. "You wanna see it again? I'm told it's cute."

"Yes, it's very cute," he said in what he hoped sounded like a flippant manner. "But I'll pass this time, thanks. So...movie then?"

"It won't take that long till we can go back, will it? Let's just hang out."

So they lounged on the couches and talked easily about glee club and school and whatever else popped into their heads. At one point Sam asked Blaine if he'd heard from Kurt lately. Blaine said that he hadn't and quickly changed the subject to Brittany. How were things between her and Sam? Not that he really wanted to hear, but it was better than talking about Kurt.

"Oh, you know. Brittany's great. She's got colleges after her now, which is just...weird. She sorta hooked up with this girl when she was touring Princeton, and—"

"Wait, what!?"

"Well, not really hooked up. I mean, it wasn't cheating or anything."

"And it wasn't cheating because...? Because it was with a girl?"

"No, not that. Brittany used to think that it didn't count with a girl, but that was only because Santana told her that, and Santana only told her that so the two of them could fool around while Brittany was dating Artie."

"So then why...?"

"Oh, see, it's because _Brittany_ didn't actually do anything. It was all this other girl doing stuff _to_ Brittany. Which I can totally understand. I mean, doing stuff to Brittany is really, really fun. Like, she loves it when I...Sorry, dude. You probably don't want to hear this."

"So...you're not upset?"

"No. I think it's really hot, actually. I wonder if girls think the idea of two guys together is as hot as guys think the idea of two girls together is. Straight guys, I mean. Or bi guys even. The thought of Brittany getting her pussy eaten by some other hot chick probably doesn't do much for you, though."

"Oh god, Sam. You did _not_ just use that word in front of me."

"What word? Pussy?"

"Seriously, stop. Please."

"Fine. _Vagina_. It's this thing girls have. And there's also this thing called a clitoris, and if you lick this thing called a clitoris the girl will have a thing called an orgasm. That's like an ejaculation, but with less liquid. Some liquid, but it doesn't shoot out as much."

"I swear to God, Sam. If you don't stop, I'll start talking about butt sex."

"Lay it on me, man. There is nothing you could say that would bother me."

But Blaine was speechless. And blushing.

"Really? You don't wanna tell me what it's like to take a giant, throbbing cock up your ass?"

Blaine turned even brighter red. And then he had a coughing fit. Eventually he managed to sputter, "I bet the kitchen's okay now."

Sam kept trying to make him blush while they mixed the rest of the ingredients together. And pretty much every time he tried it, it worked. He got the biggest reaction from "giant, throbbing cock," so naturally that's the one he said the most.

"Okay. I guess this is ready to go in the cake pan finally."

"Cool. But just say 'giant, throbbing cock.' Just once. Then I'll leave you alone."

Blaine sighed. "Promise?"

"Of course."

"Fine." He looked around, although they had the place to themselves. He took a deep breath and looked right into his friend's beautiful green eyes as he slowly and clearly said, "Giant. Throbbing. Cock."

This time Sam was speechless, but only momentarily. He snapped out of it and said, "Very good. Was that so hard?" Then he laughed and added, "No pun intended."

"Can I pour the batter in the pan now?"

"Dude, of course not."

Blaine banged his head softly but dramatically against a cupboard door. "What now!?"

"We have to taste it and make sure it's okay, obviously." Sam hopped up on the counter, making an even bigger mess of all the crap they still had to put away. He ran a finger through the bowl and brought it to his mouth. God, Blaine had wet dreams involving those long fingers and those beautiful, strong hands. And to see Sam put one of them in his lovely mouth with those soft, full lips and suck on it much longer than seemed necessary...

"Sam. Come on. You promised you'd stop teasing me."

"I didn't even say anything!"

"No, but you...Never mind." Blaine filled the cake pan and slid it into the preheated oven.

Sam ran his finger along the side of the bowl and held it out to Blaine's mouth. "You can kinda tell the chocolate got burnt, but it's really, really sweet and actually pretty good. Try it." Blaine opened his mouth tentatively and barely touched the tip of Sam's finger with the tip of his tongue. "I'm not made of poison, you know," Sam said.

Okay. Fine then. Blaine circled Sam's finger with his tongue, and then he closed his mouth and sucked. He gazed into Sam's eyes while he was sucking; it was Sam who broke the gaze when he leaned his head back a little and closed his eyes. He didn't open them right away when Blaine stopped.

"Dude, that was...that was surprisingly intense."

Blaine smiled. Time to see if he could make Sam blush. "I've been told I'm really good with my mouth." Sam didn't blush, but he didn't reply either. Blaine continued, "Just think how intense it would be if instead of your finger I had your giant, throbbing cock in my mouth."

Sam coughed. "Do that again?" He ran his finger along the inside of the bowl and held it out again.

Blaine held Sam's hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He licked the batter off quickly, not really tasting it. It was Sam he wanted to taste. The fingers wouldn't have been his first choice of parts, but he'd take what he could get.

He started with the index finger, licking and nibbling the tip, then engulfing the whole finger with his mouth and sucking. He added the next finger greedily, and the next. Then he slowed down and worked his tongue into the spaces between the fingers. He glanced at Sam's face and saw his head was lolled back. God, his neck looked delicious.

Blaine picked up a batter-covered spoon and, before he could psych himself out, touched it to Sam's neck. "Oh darn, look at that," he said. "Let me clean that up for you." He paused, half expecting Sam to object. But he didn't. Blaine licked slowly from Sam's collarbone to his jaw. Still no objection from Sam, just an audible intake of breath. "If you're not going to stop me I'm going to keep it up. No pun intended."

Sam shook his head. Wait, did that mean "Don't" or "I don't object"? Blaine moved closer so their bodies were almost together. He leaned in tentatively. Okay, it must mean "I don't object." Blaine ran his hand through Sam's hair, then gently grabbed his head and pulled it closer. He went kind of crazy, licking and nibbling and kissing Sam's neck, but imagining it was his dick. Then imaging Sam doing the same for him. Then an unwanted image: Sam licking Brittany's...you know. Shit, Brittany!

He stopped and backed away. "God, Sam, I'm so sorry!"

"No, it's all right," Sam reassured him. "I actually kinda...I mean it's actually kinda...good. Kinda really good."

"But...what about Brittany?"

"What about her? I'm not gonna try to make you eat her pussy, you know."

"No, I mean...you're with Brittany. I don't want to be responsible for you cheating on her."

"How am I cheating on her? I'm not doing anything."

"No, but..."

"It's her rule, you know."

Blaine wasn't totally convinced that this was right or made any sense. But, and maybe this was just his dick talking, but if Sam was okay with it and Brittany would probably be okay with it, who was he to question their "rules"? And when would he get this chance again? Still, he just had to clarify...

"So, I can do stuff to you, like, sexual stuff, and as long as you don't do anything to me, Brittany will be cool with it?"

"Exactly."

"And you? Do you want me to keep doing stuff to you?"

Sam glanced away. "What you've been doing so far is actually...really enjoyable. And you know I trust you completely, bro. So yeah. I want you to keep doing stuff to me." He looked Blaine in the eye and added, "Like, literally anything you want to do."

They continued to look in each other's eyes as Blaine slowly unbuttoned Sam's flannel shirt. He pulled it off and dropped it on the stove while Sam sat passively.

"Wait. Sam. Is this going to ruin our friendship? Because I really don't want things to be awkward between us."

"It's not going to ruin our friendship."

Blaine looked skeptical.

Sam grew exasperated. "Dude, I thought you wanted to do me."

"Well, when you put it like that..." He ran his hands over Sam's shoulders and chest. "Are you really super sure, though? What did you mean when you said 'literally anything'? And won't—"

Sam put his hand over Blaine's mouth. He leaned his forehead against Blaine's. "Can you shut up please?" Blaine nodded. "Okay, when I take my hand away, are you going to ask me again if it's okay?" Blaine shook his head. "When I take my hand away, are you going to kiss me?" Blaine nodded eagerly.

Sam took his hand away. Blaine kissed his cheek, and Sam closed his eyes. Blaine kissed his eyelids. He put his hands in Sam's hair and held his head in place while he went for his lips. Those gorgeous, full lips that he'd been dreaming about for months. Santana was an idiot. They were nothing like trout lips. They were soft, smooth, sweet. God were they sweet.

Blaine could have kissed those lips all night. But there was other stuff he wanted to do too, while he had the chance. He still didn't really believe Sam when he said this wouldn't fuck up their friendship, but he couldn't resist the invitation. And Sam didn't seem to be minding it so far. Blaine pushed past the lips with his tongue, and Sam let him: he compliantly opened his mouth just as far as Blaine needed, and he kept up with the movements of Blaine's head and tongue. When he pulled away for a breath, Sam said, "You're actually a really good kisser."

"Actually?" Blaine said. "Should I be insulted that you're so surprised?"

"No, you know what I mean."

"I think so, _actually_. The surprising thing is that it's good for _you_?"

"Right," Sam said. He smiled and added, "See how smart I was to trust you?"

"You're a fucking genius, Sam."

"As long as you don't just love me for my body."

"No. Not just for that." Blaine gently pushed Sam's knees apart and stepped between them. "But it is pretty awesome." He traced the muscles on Sam's arms and chest before wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in closer for another kiss. His hands ran down Sam's back and into the back of his pants. Sam let out a small gasp.

"Was that a good gasp?"

"Blaine. Seriously. I promise to tell you if something isn't good."

"Right..." Blaine still hesitated, feeling like he really should ask before he did what he was about to do. But the last thing he wanted to do was annoy Sam or, worse, make him change his mind and call the whole thing off. So he just grabbed him, lifted him off the counter. Sam instinctively wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck and his legs around his waist. "Sorry," Blaine said when he accidentally banged Sam's butt into the knobs on the stove.

"Okay, _that_ was a surprise," Sam said as he exited the kitchen in Blaine's arms. "No offense, but I kinda didn't think you could lift me." Sam was quite a bit taller and broader than Blaine, after all, and Blaine's muscles weren't as...obvious.

"Don't you think Coach Sylvester has taught me anything in Cheerios?" Blaine asked. "If there's one thing male cheerleaders can do, it's lift people. You want me to throw you in the air and catch you too?"

"If you want to. You're the boss." Sam buried his head in Blaine's neck and kissed him, but then he stopped abruptly. Apparently he had forgotten but then remembered that he wasn't allowed to do anything.

Blaine carried him to his room and stood him on the floor, against the wall. He pressed his body against Sam's so that Sam was pinned to the wall. Of course, Sam could have freed himself if he'd tried. And he said he'd tell Blaine if he didn't like something, so... He looked Sam in the eyes and slowly moved his hands down to his pants. Sam's eyes didn't seem to be telling him to stop. He pressed his hand against Sam's bulge: it was harder than he'd expected. The touch elicited another small gasp; Blaine didn't have to ask this time whether it was a good gasp. Still, he unbuttoned and unzipped Sam's jeans slowly, just in case he wanted to tell him to stop. Sam said no such thing.

Jesus, this was really going to happen, apparently. Blaine pulled Sam's jeans and underwear down to his knees in one motion. They both looked at Sam's cock, then at each other. Sam was blushing, but he still didn't say stop.

Blaine found himself unsure what to do next. He should probably stop staring at Sam, who was turning brighter red the longer he ogled him. But Sam was _so fucking gorgeous_. Blaine realized something: "You're really sexy when you blush."

Sam, predictably, blushed more in response. And he added, "So are you."

Blaine felt his cheeks. "I'm not—"

"Earlier," Sam said. "When I mentioned Brittany's pussy...See, there you go."

Blaine tried unsuccessfully to will himself to stop blushing. "I thought you weren't allowed to talk."

"I can talk all I want. I just can't—" Blaine shut him up with a kiss. And Sam forgot his rule again, grabbing Blaine's hair while thrusting his tongue into his mouth. When Sam remembered the rule and returned to passivity, Blaine started working his way down Sam with his mouth. He got to a spot on the neck that made Sam moan, so he lingered there, sucking and biting, until he noticed the large purple hickey he'd given him. He hoped Sam was right that Brittany wouldn't mind. Or maybe Brittany would dump him and Sam could be his all the time...No, better just stay in the moment.

He moved past the neck and concentrated on Sam's chest. His pecs were amazing. Blaine pressed his hands against them before pressing his mouth against them. He wanted desperately to coax another moan out of Sam. He sucked hard on one of his nipples while squeezing the other. Sam let out an audible breath. It wasn't a moan or a gasp, but it was enough to encourage Blaine to keep going. When he bit down, Sam yelped. It was an extremely satisfying sound, although Blaine did wonder if he'd gone too far. But Sam was not only not saying stop or moving away, he rested his hand on Blaine's head and leaned his head back, eyes closed, mouth open. Blaine nibbled some more and felt Sam gripping his hair. "Your hair's really nice without so much gel in it," Sam said.

The hand stayed tangled in his hair as Blaine moved his mouth farther down. By the time he reached his belly button, Sam was breathing hard. And when Blaine's hands shot around behind Sam and grabbed his ass, Sam let out another yelp, followed by a low, continuous moan while Blaine kneaded his cheeks. Blaine was on his knees now, with Sam's erect cock staring him in the face. It was twitching; Blaine could see and almost hear the blood pulsing through it. _Thank you, Lord, for the bounty I am about to receive._

He planned to take the cock in his mouth slowly, savoring it, but once his tongue touched it, he wanted it all, now, and he greedily engulfed it. "Oh Jesus, Blaine." Sam's grip on his hair tightened. "Oh my Jesus fucking Christ, that is _so good_." He whined when Blaine stopped abruptly and stood up.

Blaine took him by the hand and led him toward the bed, and he tripped over the jeans around his ankles. "Can you take them off?" Blaine asked. "Or do I have to do it?" Sam wordlessly stepped out of the jeans, out of his underwear, out of his socks even. Blaine pushed him, not painfully but not entirely gently either, onto his back on the bed.

"What are you..." Sam started to ask. But he was distracted by the sight of Blaine standing by the side of the bed undressing himself. "Oh my God, you're so hot."

"You think so? Really?" Blaine was genuinely surprised. He didn't know why Sam was doing this—or letting Blaine do this to him—and he'd been trying not to overthink it. But Sam being attracted to him had not occurred to him as a potential explanation.

"Totally. So...what are you going to do to me?"

"First, since you're staring..." Blaine took Sam's hand and placed it on his cock. This time it was Blaine's turn to gasp. The fact of Sam's touch hadn't surprised him, obviously, but the intensity of the sensation had, and that was with Sam's fingers barely brushing him.

Blaine stopped moving Sam's hand, but Sam didn't. Sam was stroking himself with one hand and Blaine with the other, in unison. "Then what?"'

"Then I'm going to lube myself up, make my asshole all wet and slippery for you, and ride your beautiful cock. Your giant, throbbing cock."

Sam stroked harder. "And then what?"

And then what? That was as far ahead as Blaine had thought. Well, there _was_ something else he'd like to do. Might as well float the idea now. "Then I'm going to flip you over and fuck your ass." Sam did not seem averse to the idea—in fact he moaned and squirmed—so Blaine continued. "I am going to put you on your hands and knees and I am going to slide my cock into you and pound you and you are going to come and come like you never have before and I'm going to come and come like I never have before and then we'll both be so exhausted and drained and happy." Sam groaned and jerked himself and Blaine. Blaine slapped both his hands lightly and tucked them under Sam's head. "And you are just going to lie there and enjoy it. Now don't move."

Blaine walked to his desk for the lube and condoms. They were in the desk because it seemed like the place his mom was least likely to look. Besides, the desk faced the bed in a such a way that someone lying on the bed would get a good view of the ass of the person bending down to the bottom drawer to retrieve the items. Kurt had enjoyed that. Blaine wondered if Sam would too. He peered over his shoulder once he was in position, and yes, Sam seemed to be enjoying it. "Hey! Didn't I tell you not to touch yourself?"

"Hurry up, then!"

Blaine stood next to the bed and applied the lube to himself. Sam squeezed his ass. "You know," Blaine said, "if you insist on touching stuff, you could at least be helpful." He handed Sam the lube bottle.

"Uh, what do I...?"

"Squirt some on your fingers and then rub it into me."

"_In_to into?"

"If you don't want me to get hurt."

"No, of course not!" Sam did a _very_ thorough job of lubing Blaine up. His fingers were incredible, and he was so eager yet so gentle. Blaine would have let the process go on much longer, but he wanted to be sure there would be enough lube left for Sam.

He took the bottle back, opened one of the condom wrappers, and...well, just one more taste first. God, he loved the taste of that cock. He sat on Sam's legs, his dick against Sam's balls, while he put the condom on and rubbed on some of the lube.

He swiveled and started to mount Sam reverse cowgirl style. He had lowered himself onto the very tip of his cock, but then he stopped and got off. "What are you doing?" Sam asked, a little panicky. "Why are you stopping? Does it hurt?"

"No, no. It's just that I realized reverse cowgirl is no good. I wanna be able to see your face. I'm gonna do a reverse reverse cowgirl. Which, I guess, is just a cowgirl."

"Not a cow_boy_?"

"Do you want me to be your cowboy?"

"Um. No, that's a little weird, actually."

"Right." Less talking, more fucking. He straddled Sam and lowered himself onto him again, watching his face the whole time. His eyes squeezed shut, his eyebrows furrowed. His mouth hung open. Every slight move Blaine made was reflected on that gorgeous face. "Sam?"

"Mmm?" Sam was biting his lower lip now.

"Tell me if you get close to coming."

"Mmm hmm."

Blaine raised and lowered himself, slowly at first. He adjusted his position until he got just the right angle. When he felt Sam's dick hit that perfect spot he yelled out.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"_Ver_-y, _ver_-y _o_-kay," Blaine assured him, the hits to that spot corresponding with every other syllable.

"Oh God. Blaine. Blainey. I think you better get off me if you don't want me to come yet."

Blaine hesitated. He was going to come soon too, and he needed to so bad...

"Blainey?"

No. Not yet. He dismounted, leaving both of them gasping from the sudden removal. Blaine lay on Sam's chest for a moment to catch his breath and then, true to his word, he flipped Sam over onto his stomach. He straddled him, resting his dick on Sam's crack while he massaged his shoulders and kissed the back of his neck. He found himself grinding into Sam and Sam grinding into the mattress.

"Are you sure you wanna let me fuck you?" Blaine asked. He almost didn't ask; he dreaded hearing Sam say no. But he had to be sure. "Because I could come...just like this, or about a million other ways. You could come in my ass, in my mouth—"

"I'm sure, Blaine."

_Thank God_. Blaine knelt between Sam's thighs to apply the lube. He was careful and slow, even though his dick desperately wanted to get in there already. He wanted to make sure it was pleasurable for Sam; he knew it was pretty much guaranteed to be good for himself no matter what.

Sam moaned when Blaine's fingers rubbed the slick liquid around his hole. When Blaine put a finger inside, he moaned harder and clamped down on it. "Is everything okay, Sammy?"

"Very okay," Sam said, squirming.

"Cause the thing is, you don't want to tighten. You want to relax." Sam relaxed a little, but as soon as Blaine's finger moved, he clenched again. "Are you really, really sure—"

"Jesus Christ, Blaine. _Yes_, I'm sure. Will you please just fuck me already?"

"Just a little more lube. I want to make sure you're ready."

"Fuck, I'm _ready_." He got on his hands and knees. Blaine didn't want to piss him off, but he knew he wasn't really ready. He applied some more lube, and Sam rocked with the motion of his hand. "I'm sorry I snapped. You just keep asking me that and..." He dropped his to a near-whisper. "Come on, Blainey. Don't make me beg for it. Please?"

"Wow. You really want it that bad?"

"Blaaaaine!"

"Right. Okay." He put a condom on and covered it with lube. "All right." He positioned himself between Sam's knees, nudging them slightly farther apart. He wondered if a different position would be better, but Sam was so impatient. He was probably losing his nerve; in fact, Blaine should probably stop. But...well, Sam said he wanted it. Who was Blaine to second-guess him? "Okay," he said again.

He slid his cock in just a tiny bit, just the head. Immediately Sam clenched and stopped breathing. "It's okay, baby," Blaine told him. "You just need to relax, okay?"

"This is a hell of a time to tell someone to relax," Sam said through clenched teeth. Blaine couldn't tell if this was supposed to be a joke.

"I know, baby. But just...if you want to let me in, you have to relax. Take some deep breaths first, okay? I'll wait until you're ready."

Sam nodded and took some long, deep breaths. He gradually unclenched and even relaxed a little. "Okay," he said. "I'm ready for more."

Blaine believed him this time, but he still took things slowly: no more than an inch at a time, holding still whenever Sam stopped breathing and waiting until he relaxed again. It was agony, when he really just wanted to slam relentlessly into Sam until he exploded in pleasure. But he was already kind of taking advantage of his friend by fucking him at all. The least he could do was be gentle and not hurt him.

It was many minutes until Sam made a gasping sound that didn't sound like pain. "Sam?"

"Sorry, I just...that actually felt really good. You can put it all the way in now. I really want you to."

Blaine still went slowly, but he went steadily now: he didn't need to take any more breaks to remind Sam to relax. "Oh god, Sam. Your ass is amazing. Do you know how hard it is for me not to come right now?" He picked up the thrusting.

"Not yet. Not yet, this is so—" He gasped at Blaine's latest thrust and rocked himself farther onto his dick. "Keep fucking me, Blainey. Harder. Come on...oh God, right there! Oh God!" Sam gripped the sheets tightly and put his head down to bite Blaine's pillow. The slight change in angle made it even better. "Oh God, don't stop. Keep fucking me while I come, Blainey." Before Blaine could reach around and grab Sam's cock, Sam was already jerking himself. So Blaine gripped Sam's hips tightly and held them in place while he really fucked Sam, really pounded his ass.

Sam's announcement, "Oh God, I'm coming," was totally unnecessary. Blaine could tell he was coming from the movement of his pelvis and the electricity it sent through Blaine's dick into his whole body. He screamed into the pillow as copious amounts of come shot out of him.

Blaine let go with his own orgasm right after Sam's. He was vaguely aware that his fingers were digging into Sam's hips and that he was biting his own lip.

Sam's orgasm was messy: all over the sheets and pillowcase. Blaine's come was presumably contained within the condom; it just seemed like a lot of work to pull out and remove the thing. He did, though—it wasn't actually that comfortable anymore—and luckily he could reach the trash can without having to get out of bed. He rolled over next to Sam, who was lying perfectly still and had his eyes closed. Blaine kissed him gently on the forehead and asked, "You okay, Sammy?"

"Mmm hmmm," Sam said, already half asleep. Blaine put his arm around him and went to sleep too.

Blaine didn't know how long he'd been asleep when Sam shook him awake. He couldn't actually make Sam out that well: the room was hot and kind of hazy. And Sam said, "Dude, I thought the smoke from the chocolate chip incident was gone."


	2. Wednesday: Skype

_The day before._

"Lord Tubbington is mad I didn't bring him with me to Princeton," Brittany said to Sam over Skype.

"How do you know?"

"He's been making mean comments on all my Fondue for Two videos. Like, there's this one that says, 'Your cat is way smarter than you are.' I mean, how much more obvious can he get?"

"Maybe Lady Tubbington wrote that," Sam suggested.

"Oh, my sweet, confused Sam. Lady Tubbington doesn't think she's smarter than me. She thinks she's hotter than me, which is—"

"Ridiculous."

"Exactly," Brittany said. "It's ridiculous. But I don't want her to have bad self-esteem so I let her think that. Oh, by the way, did I leave Santana Junior in your room?"

Sam wished she hadn't named it after her ex-girlfriend. That was weird, right? "Yes, and thank God Carole didn't find it." The last thing he needed was for Finn's mother, who was nice enough to let him keep staying there even though Finn and Kurt and Kurt's dad were all away, to find a giant vibrator in "his" room.

"Good, I was really worried about her. She'll be safe with you, though. You can mess around with her if you want." Someone walked behind Brittany. Brittany turned to her and said, "Laura, come say hi to my boyfriend Sam. Laura's showing me around and I'm staying in her dorm room while I'm here."

A girl with short red hair leaned into the picture. "Hi, Sam. Brittany's great. I really hope she'll come to Princeton."

Brittany gave her a one-armed hug. "Aw, thanks, Laura. I'm not sure Princeton's academics are up to my standards, but that's sweet anyway." She kissed Laura on the cheek.

Laura seemed to blush a little, but Sam couldn't be sure; the picture wasn't the greatest. "I'm going to go take a shower. Nice to meet you, I guess, Sam."

"You too," Sam called to her retreating figure. To Brittany he said, "She seems nice."

"Uh-huh. And so hot."

"Yeah? Too bad I didn't get a good look at her. I mean, her face was cute, I guess—"

"I should have made her show you her tongue," Brittany said. "She is really, really awesome at cunnilingus."

Sam was momentarily speechless. "What do you mean, Britt?" He was pretty sure she meant some other word.

"You know. Cunnilingus. When you put your tongue in a girl's vagina and on her clitoris? You've done it a million times; what did you think it was called?"

Again, he didn't know how to respond. "And, uh, she happened to mention that she's really good at it?"

"No, Sam. Everyone _thinks_ they're good at it, but most people aren't. You really are, of course. And I know Laura is because when she went down on me last night it was awesome. I came like...I don't know how many times. I lost count."

Sam was surprised, to say the least. Surprised and conflicted. He'd jerked off countless times to imagined images of Brittany with another girl. Usually the other girl was Santana, which wasn't great because he didn't really like Santana, but she was easy to picture, and the knowledge that it had really happened was a bigger turn-on than some hypothetical scenario. And now he was picturing this Laura girl going down on Brittany. He wished he'd gotten a better look at her, but he could still picture it pretty well. He pictured Brittany coming. Brittany's orgasms made him almost wish he was a girl. They went on and on and she could have one after another and she screamed and bit and dug her nails into him. Okay, those last couple things he could maybe do without, but everything else was super hot.

_But._ His girlfriend just admitted she cheated on him. Admitted it as if it were nothing, in fact. He really shouldn't like this. He had to admit that he did, though, if his erection was any indication. "Sam," he heard her say. "What's wrong? You're spacing out."

"Brittany...you didn't, like, break up with me and forget to tell me or something, did you? Because last thing I knew we were going out, and part of going out, generally, is not having sex with other people."

"I didn't have sex with her. She had sex with me." And Brittany went on to explain why this wasn't cheating. Sam was mostly convinced by the end of her explanation. No, completely convinced. It made perfect sense, actually. And he was vaguely aware that this rule could work for him too, maybe. If an opportunity ever arose.

He was spacing out again and had to ask Brittany to repeat the last thing she'd said. "I just asked what was going on in glee. Does everyone miss me? Sing me the last song you sang in glee."

"Well, mostly they were group numbers that I can't really sing by myself. But I did do this one mostly by myself. Be right back." He walked across the room for his guitar. When he came back he announced, "I'm back." He didn't like to freak Brittany out. He played her his song, the song he'd been conceived to, "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'."

Brittany was crying by the end of it.

"I guess it's kind of a sad song," he admitted. But Brittany sounded more than just the sad you get at hearing a random sad song. She sounded sort of...inconsolable. "Brittany, baby, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have sung it if I knew it would affect you this way. It's just a song, though. I didn't pick it because of you and me or anything. I wasn't trying to say that _you_ lost that loving feeling."

"Because I haven't," she said between sobs. "_You_ have."

"What? That's crazy, Brittany."

Brittany shook her head sadly. "You've barely even been listening to me tonight. You've been thinking about someone else."

"I've been thinking about you and what's-her-name! The girl you're sleeping with!"

But Brittany just kept crying and shaking her head. "It's not just tonight. I've known for a long time that you're into someone else. And I know who it is."

"What the hell are you—" Sam thought heard a door opening. It wasn't his. "Is Laura back?" Brittany nodded. "Okay, listen. I'll talk to you alone when you get back. I love you. Okay? I love you."

Brittany shrugged. "If that's what you want to keep telling yourself." And she logged off.

Sam sat staring at the blank screen. _I've known for a long time that you're into someone else. And I know who it is._ Shit. He should have known that even if he could hide his feelings from everyone else, even from himself for a long time, he couldn't hide them from Brittany.

Well, at least this would save him from having to break it to her...if he ever grew the balls to do anything about it.

XOXOXO

Sam hated being alone in Kurt and Finn's house. He wasn't used to it: at his house there was always someone around. Usually he'd hang out with Brittany or Blaine, but once in a while they'd both be busy doing something else. Like tonight. He wished for Carole even. Not that they had a lot to talk about, but she was always nice to him.

Who he really wished for, though, was his family. Especially his mom. Was it lame for a seventeen-year-old guy to miss his mom? Probably.

So when he called her, he tried to sound casual. You knew, just seeing how things were. But his mom's ability to read him was as impressive as Brittany's—maybe even more so, since she knew something was up just from a phone call.

She asked lots of questions: How was school? Fine. No, he wasn't still freaked out about the non-shooting. It was just an accidental discharge—no big deal. How was his church youth group? Fine, he guessed. He hadn't been in a while. How were things with Brittany? Okay. No, really, they were okay. No, he didn't feel like talking about it. How was glee? Good. He thought they had a good chance at regionals this year.

His mother sighed. "You know you can talk to me about stuff, right?"

"Sure, mom. I know."

"I wish I could drive up for a visit. Maybe in a couple weeks I'll be able to arrange it."

"That'd be great," he said, brightening. "Maybe you could bring everyone."

"I think it'll probably just be me. Burt and Carole were so nice to extend an open invitation, but I don't think all four of us can impose on them. You know how Stevie and Stacey are."

"Yeah." _Actually I don't. I haven't seen them in forever_.

"Besides, your dad is working a lot of overtime."

"That's cool. It'll be good to see just you."

"_Just _me?"

Sam laughed. "I'm not scoring many points in the good son competition, am I?"

"Oh, you know it's not a competition, honey," his mom said. "But no."

XOXOXO

He couldn't sleep. It was a warmish night, or at least the first night of the year that wasn't too cold, so he opened the window. Fresh, cool air usually helped him sleep. But tonight it didn't do squat.

He kept thinking about Brittany, about what she'd said. _I've known for a long time that you're into someone else. And I know who it is. _It was true, but the thing was, he still loved her. He was terrified she would leave him. He got out of bed and sent her a text: "i luv u plz dont dump me." Pathetic, he knew. But he felt a little better after having sent it.

Except that she didn't text him back. Well, it was late. She was probably asleep. Or getting eaten out by that Laura girl again. Damn it. Why did that thought have to get him worked up even when he was all mopey and despondent?

It probably made him an asshole, but he wouldn't mind the possibility of Brittany dumping him so much if he could be sure Blaine still wanted him. He knew that wasn't fair to Brittany. She was so sweet and awesome. And here he was, just using her so he wouldn't have to be alone. And for sex, let's not forget the sex. But no, he _did_ really love her. It wasn't an act. It was just that...well, like she said, he was into someone else now.

Someone who had probably lost interest in him by now. It was his own fault: he'd passed up at least two perfect opportunities to say something.

He had been about to say something, in fact, that one time in the locker room.

_I've been waiting to let it out and release this inner sin that's tortured my insides. _

_Do you have feelings for me?_

_What? No, dude, come on. It's a million times worse than that._

What the fuck, Sam? You were supposed to say. "Yes. Yes, I'm crazy about you." But then, no, really that wasn't a good opportunity at all. It might have been, if he hadn't already fucked up by calling it a sin. How would that have made Blaine feel? Probably not like jumping him. More like telling him to go fuck himself. So he'd wussed out and made up some bullshit about being a fan of Barry Manilow. The hell?

No, the real perfect time for him to have said something was later that week, when he got Blaine to admit _his _crush. Why couldn't he have just said, "It's cool because I'm into you too!" Instead, he'd just said some lame-ass shit about it being okay and kind of flattering. Seriously, Sam, what the fuck?

He really had been on the verge of spilling his guts when they were hugging it out and he felt Blaine's hard cock against his leg. But it wasn't his cock, it was just breath mints. So he lost his nerve. Again. Maybe if Blaine had noticed Sam's hard-on...but he hadn't.

That hug was really awesome. Every time Blaine touched him was pretty awesome. But that hug...

What if, when Sam said, "Please tell me those are Lifesavers in your pocket," instead of saying they were, Blaine had gotten all embarrassed and admitted it wasn't a roll of candy. He would have been all like, "I can't help it, Sam, you just make me so horny. Please don't hate me," and Sam would've been like, "I don't hate you, dude. In fact..." and he would have taken Blaine's hand and placed it on his own hard dick, and, oh Jesus...

He had started stroking himself without realizing it. He continued, imagining it was Blaine's hand instead of his own. _Blaine, baby, don't stop. You don't have to be gentle_—

Crap. His phone was ringing, and it was his mother's ring tone. He let go of his dick and scrambled out of bed to answer it.

"Sam? I'm sorry, were you asleep?"

"Not really. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. I'm sorry to call you so late, but I was excited and wanted to tell you right away. Your Aunt Susie said she could drive out this weekend and watch the kids this weekend, so I'm coming up to visit you Friday!"

"Mom, that's so great!" He didn't try to play down his enthusiasm, because even if it was lame, fuck it, it was his mom and he really was happy he'd get to see her soon. Almost happy enough to forget about what he'd been interrupted in the middle of.

Almost, but not quite. After he got off the phone he just wanted to go to sleep, but he wouldn't be able to until he'd taken care of something.

He put his cell phone on the dresser, and from the top drawer he pulled out Santana Junior. He knew from prior experience—Brittany had insisted!—that he could get there faster with a little battery power than with just his hand. Now where was he before he got interrupted? Oh yeah: _Blaine, baby, don't stop. You don't have to be gentle, yeah, just like that. Yeah, you can suck it. Suck it, Blaine. Suck it, oh God..._

He cleaned himself up with his shirt, dropped it and Santana Junior on the floor, and fell asleep immediately.


	3. Friday: Fire

The hallway was too smoky. Blaine opened one of his windows and pushed the screen out. "Go!" he ordered Sam.

"What, jump?"

"Just climb out. It's the roof. It's the roof of the porch."

Sam climbed out, followed by Blaine, who was holding onto the sheet. Sam realized they were naked. He tried to go back in for his jeans—which also had his phone in them—but Blaine blocked him. He wrapped the sheet around both of them.

"What now?" Sam asked. "Jump?"

Blaine shook his head. "There's nothing but rose bushes down there. We'll have to get someone's attention."

The houses on either side of Blaine's were completely dark. "Aren't any of your neighbors home?"

"Hey! Hello! Help! Help!" Blaine was yelling, but hardly any sound was coming out. "I can't yell," he told Sam.

"Did you breathe in too much smoke?"

"No. But I'm just barely managing to keep it together. I can't yell without starting to cry."

"If you can cry louder than you can yell, do it."

Blaine let loose and sobbed and screamed. Sam was yelling: "Help! Fire! Help! Fire!"

A light went on in the house next door. Sam pried a shingle loose and flung it at the window. It hit, but no one came to investigate. He flung another and this one cracked the window. Someone inside peered out, from behind the curtain. "Dude! Call 911! The house next door to yours is on fire!"

The guy inside opened the curtain. "Hold on, guys!" he yelled, and then disappeared.

Blaine was still sobbing. Sam pulled him close and tried to calm him. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, baby. Your neighbor's calling 911. A fire truck will be here before you know it." Blaine didn't hear or understand what Sam was saying. But he understood that he was holding him tight, and that helped. It helped him not fall _completely _apart. They stood and rocked together and Sam's arms were around him...

Wait, Sam wasn't holding him anymore. What was going on? His hands were touching his shoulders. They were shaking him. Then they took his head and made him look at Sam's face. He was trying to say something. "Blaine. Climb down the ladder, okay, baby? Just climb down and we'll be safe. Just climb down, baby. Be careful!" He felt colder, and then he was aware of the feel of cold metal on his bare feet and hands. And then his feet were on cold mud and grass. And then Sam was back, holding him again, and he was warm again. Sam was stroking his hair, and he was sobbing into Sam's shoulder. There were bright, colored, moving lights and a lot of noise. Someone led him—and Sam; Sam was still there with him—into a vehicle. An ambulance! he realized.

"Sam, are we in an ambulance?"

Sam spoke to him so softly, so soothingly. "That's right, baby. We're in an ambulance. They're gonna take us to the hospital and just make sure we're okay. The ambulance might go fast, and it might make a lot of noise. But don't worry, everything's cool." There were other people in the ambulance with them, and they were asking questions, but Sam was answering them so that was all right. And they were doing stuff to him, but nothing that hurt, so that was all right too. As long as Sam was there it was all right.

And then they were in a building with lots of bright lights and someone was putting some kind of backwards robe on him. And, oh God, they were taking Sam away from him, or taking him away from Sam. "Everything's fine, Blaine!" Sam was yelling to him. "I'll see you soon. You're gonna be fine!"

"What about you?" Blaine yelled back. "Are you gonna be fine?"

"Yeah, baby, I'll be fine. I swear."

XOXOXO

Sam called Carole before he called his own family. She'd want to know right away. "Hey, Carole," he said, trying to sound casual.

"Sam! Where on earth are you? Whose phone are you calling from?"

"It's actually kind of a funny story. I'm in the hospital _but I'm totally fine_." He heard her gasp. "I was at Blaine's and there was a fire _but Blaine is fine too_. The fire dudes or whoever just had to bring us to the hospital to make sure we didn't breathe in too much smoke or whatever."

"Oh my God. Oh my God! Are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah." He had tried to emphasize that point, in fact. "Say, do you have Blaine's mom's number? I don't think he's really coherent enough to call her yet."

"What do you mean not coherent? What's wrong?"

"He's okay. He's just a little upset now."

"Okay. I'll call Sharon and then I'll be right there."

"Carole, wait!" Damn it, she hung up. He called her right back. "Carole, could you bring me some clothes, and some for Blaine?"

"Clothes? Why?"

"Uh, ours are too smoky. They had to throw them out."

The nurse in his room smirked when he said that. He hoped she wouldn't rat him out when Carole got there.

Sam decided to wait until morning to call his family. Well, technically it was morning, but... He almost wanted to wait until his mom got there, since she was coming this afternoon anyway. That way she wouldn't be freaking out all day. But she'd be pissed if he didn't tell her before she got there, and Carole wouldn't let him keep it from her that long anyway.

"Ma'am!" he said, trying to catch the nurse as she was about to leave the room.

"Yes, hon?"

"Blaine Anderson, the other guy from the fire? Do you know how he's doing?"

"Your...friend? I'll see what I can find out."

XOXOXO

Blaine sat in a hospital bed. His mom was sitting next to him, holding his hand. She was crying, but quietly. Just tears and a sniffle now and then. A doctor was talking to them.

"How are you feeling, Blaine?"

"I feel okay. How's Sam? He's all right, isn't he?"

The doctor smiled reassuringly. "Sam is fine. You can see him in a minute, after I just ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are?"

"In the hospital."

"Do you know what happened?"

A nurse walked in, set some clothes on a chair, and walked out. Blaine recognized the sweatshirt; it was Sam's. Everything was Sam's. It would be too big for him, but he was glad to have it.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah. I remember what happened. There was a fire. The firefighters came and Sam and I got in an ambulance and it brought us here."

Where do you live? Who's the president? Who was president before him? What did you have for dinner last night? Blaine was able to answer all of the questions she asked him. He was even able to make a joke about them: "I wish my tests at school were this easy." The joke was weak and he knew it, but the doctor and his mom laughed at it anyway.

The doctor put her hand on his shoulder. "Well, physically you're great. You inhaled very little if any smoke and show no signs of trauma. By trauma I mean physical trauma. It's emotionally very difficult, and that's normal. I'm prepared to release you..." She turned to Blaine's mother. "I understand you're not able to return to your home yet. Do you have anywhere to stay?"

Blaine's mom was silent as it dawned on her. "Oh my God! Blaine, we can't go home!" She started to sob, and Blaine started to sob. "I don't know where we'll go!"

XOXOXO

They all went to the Hummel-Hudson house. Carole didn't know where everyone would sleep. Maybe Blaine and Sam in Sam's room (a.k.a. Finn's room), Sharon in Kurt's room, Mary in Burt's and her room, and herself on the couch? No, Sharon should probably get the master bedroom. She was the one who just lost her house. God, Carole couldn't imagine.

Anyway, it was around dawn when they got back to the house, and Mary wasn't even there yet—that reminded her, she had to make sure Sam called her right away!—so the sleeping situation could be figured out later.

While Sam called his mother and Sharon called her husband, Carole made them all some eggs and toast and coffee. She'd call Burt later. And Kurt and Finn. Maybe she'd just call Finn and let him call Kurt. Kurt was a wonderful, wonderful step-son and she loved him dearly. She just didn't know if she could handle his freaking out right now. Sharon's freaking out was enough—and Mary's, which she could hear over the phone. The boys seemed okay now, at least.

Sam hung up and announced, "My mom's not waiting till this afternoon; she's leaving right away." This surprised exactly no one. He sat down next to Blaine, who was playing with his eggs more than eating them.

Blaine's mom came into the kitchen and announced she was heading into the office. "Oh, Sharon! Are you sure? Don't you need some time to..."

"No. I mean, thank you, Carole, for all you're doing for us. But I have to call the insurance company, I have to find a place for us to stay..." She didn't say why exactly she had to do all that from her workplace, but no one pressed her. Blaine did ask about his dad. "I told him to stay in Chicago until I find a place for us to stay. At least he has a nice hotel room there. He travels a lot for work," she explained to Carole.

Carole took the boys' mostly uneaten plates when she had given up hope that they would eat a decent breakfast. "Are you guys tired? I could call you in sick if you want to try to get some sleep. I mean, just this once." The last part was supposed to be a joke, but no one got it.

They did want to sleep. They were exhausted. They honestly weren't even sure if they could make it up the stairs and into bed.

Without discussing it, they both stripped to their underwear—Sam's underwear—and climbed into Sam's bed. They lay there, silently but sleeplessly, for what seemed like a very long time and was probably in fact about half an hour.

"Thank you, Sam. I wouldn't have gotten through that without you."

"Your house wouldn't have burnt down without me."

"Sam, it's not your fault."

"That's bullshit," Sam said, his voice cracking. "I almost killed you. I'm so sorry, Blaine, I'm so sorry." He dissolved into tears. Blaine pulled him close, enveloped him with arms and legs, held Sam's head against his chest. His chest was soon wet from tears and slimy from snot, but he just held Sam as close as he could, rocking and shushing him, while Sam cried and apologized, cried and apologized, until eventually he wore himself out and fell asleep.

XOXOXO

Blaine woke up a little after noon, still holding Sam close to him. Sam's head was resting on his shoulder; a little bit of drool had accumulated there. Blaine lowered his lips to Sam's head but at the last minute decided not to kiss him. He had no reason to believe Sam would want to be kissed by him, and besides, the last thing he wanted to do was wake him up. He breathed deeply, taking in Sam's scent. It made him ache.

As much as Blaine tried not to move and disturb him, Sam woke up a few minutes later. He shifted a little, but didn't pull out of the embrace. He liked it too. More importantly, it meant he didn't have to look Blaine in the eyes. He couldn't bring himself to, not after what he'd done to him.

He would have stayed in Blaine's arms all day, but he wondered if his mother was there yet. It was already...he couldn't see the clock with his head buried in Blaine's shoulder. "Blaine?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Uh huh."

"Can you see what time it is?"

"Uh..." Blaine scanned the room for a clock. "It's twelve-twenty."

"My mom should be here by now." Sam sat up but still didn't look at Blaine. He got out of bed and put on the clothes Carole had brought to him at the hospital that morning. It seemed like that was years ago. "Are you coming down?"

"Yeah. Give me a few minutes."

Sam walked out and Blaine almost started to cry again. Now, on top of everything else, Sam hated him. He _knew _messing around would ruin their friendship. He didn't know what to do. He just lay there with the pillow over his head.

The door opened and Sam stuck his head in. "Blaine, I—" He saw Blaine punching the pillow that was covering his face. Not hard, but still. He sat next to him on the bed and took his hands so he'd stop. "Blaine, what's wrong?" Blaine lifted the pillow and looked at him incredulously. "Okay, stupid question," he admitted. "I just meant..."

Blaine sat up and ran his hands through his hair. "Sam, I'm so sorry I took advantage of you last night. I don't know what was going on, but I should have never taken the risk of losing your friendship for just a...I mean, can we forget what happened and sort of go back to how we were before?" He realized what an absurd request it was as soon as he made it. How could they forget what happened when it had changed literally everything, even if indirectly?

Sam finally made himself meet Blaine's eyes. "You think _you_ took advantage of _me_? Dude, _I _totally took advantage of _you_."

"You didn't take advantage of me. You gave me what I'd wanted for months."

"Yeah, well. I wanted it too."

Blaine rested his head on Sam's shoulder. "So...we're still friends?"

"Of course. We'll always be friends." Sam playfully mussed Blaine's hair. "Dude, what are you going to do without any hair gel?"

"Shit. You think Carole might have some? Or maybe Kurt left some?"

"You should just wear it like this all the time. It's nice."

"Pfft. Said the guy with perfect hair." It was his turn to muss Sam's. "So, isn't your mom here yet?"

"Yeah, I think she is. I just remembered I wanted to tell you something before I go see her. You were kind of out of it at the hospital, so you may not remember the fire investigator dudes?"

"Uh...no. Doesn't even ring a bell."

"Well, they're probably going to want to talk to you again, now that you're more, you know, able to carry on a conversation. I mean, they asked me a bunch of questions about how the fire started and what we were doing and so on. I just wanted you to know that I told them everything. You know, in case you would wonder if you should protect me or whatever so no one will think...well, you can go ahead and tell them."

"Oh. Good to know. Thanks."

"I mean, I didn't tell your _mom_ anything, or Carole, or my mom. I just thought, you know, they probably already knew we didn't have any clothes on when the ambulance came, and that would have been hard to find an innocent explanation for. And I didn't want them to think I was trying to obstruct justice or anything."

They didn't have any clothes on when the ambulance came? Shit, Blaine had forgotten that. He wished he didn't remember it now.

Sam lingered a minute before standing again. "Well, I guess I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes."

Sam's mom was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him. He flew down the steps, straight into her arms. He wanted to be held by her. Luckily there was no one around to see—Carole was discreetly making herself scarce, and Blaine was still upstairs, probably searching desperately for gel. Still, it was hard for Mary to hold her son the way he wanted to be held, and they way she wanted to hold him, now that he was a good six inches taller than her.

"My baby. Oh, my baby."

Naturally she wanted to know what had happened. Sam didn't want to outright lie to her, so he gave her a truthful but abbreviated account. He and Blaine were baking something, they went upstairs and forgot they left the oven on, and they fell asleep.

Blaine was standing on the stairs now. "I'm sorry about your cake, Mrs. Evans." Mary looked quizzically at Blaine, then Sam. "Didn't you mention that, Sam? Oh!" Maybe he had left it out intentionally, though Blaine couldn't guess why.

Mary kept looking expectantly at her son until he explained. "I didn't want to mention it because it doesn't do any good now that it's ruined. We were baking a cake. I wanted to surprise you for your visit."

"You were baking a cake? For me?" She hadn't cried yet since she'd been there, at least not that Sam or Blaine had seen. Until now. Sam rubbed her back. "Mom, come on. Don't cry. I'll bake you another one."

She stopped crying and started to laugh. "No. Please don't."

XOXOXO

The fire investigator dudes did want to talk to Blaine again. They called his mom at work, and she came by mid-afternoon to pick him up and take him there. "And when you're done we'll go out to dinner. Anywhere you want."

"Sharon, you're more than welcome to come back here and eat with us," Carole said.

"Oh, thank you, Carole. I really don't want to be in the way." She handed Blaine a couple large Macy's bags. "I stopped at the mall and bought you some clothes. Go change. I have to talk to Carole for a minute." She and Finn's mom went into the kitchen for a few minutes. Afterwards Ms. Hudson came out looking a bit shaken. Mrs. Anderson looked the same as she did before.

Blaine came back downstairs looking more like Blaine, wearing a two-toned blue striped cardigan that wasn't baggy and a new pair of skinny jeans. His mother had even bought him some hair gel.

XOXOXO

Blaine didn't get back to the Hudson-Hummel house until almost ten. Sam was getting a little nervous. He knew Blaine and his mother weren't that close, not like Sam and his mom, and he couldn't imagine what they'd be doing or talking about for so long. Unless she was really pissed and she was letting him have it. Did Mrs. Anderson get really pissed? Did she scream at Blaine, or worse? Blaine had never mentioned anything like that. But then, Blaine had never had a friend burn down their house before.

Sam's mother didn't ask him any more about the fire. She probably thought he was too traumatized to talk about it or something. It really even only came up once, right before dinner. His mom had made them all hold hands while she said grace. It was kind of embarrassing, actually. The Hummel-Hudsons never did that, although Carole very politely acted like it was normal. Mary went into a long prayer, thanking God for saving "these two brave boys," yada yada yada, asking Him to give them courage in the coming days and weeks, and so on and so forth.

It wasn't that Sam didn't believe in God. It was just that his mother could just be a little over the top sometimes.

When Blaine finally got back, the three of them were sitting around in the living room—or the two women were, anyway. Sam was actually lying on the couch with his head in his mother's lap while she talked to Carole about his childhood and played with his hair.

The instant he heard the door open Sam sat up and scooted to the far end of the couch. It was one thing to let Carole see him like that. She was a mom and probably thought it was sweet or cute or something. But for Blaine to see him like that—just...no.

One look at Blaine told him that something was really wrong. Something in addition to all the wrong stuff he already knew about. "I...I'm sorry. I really have to go to bed," Blaine said before running up the stairs.

"What...?" Mary said. "Where's...?" Carole shook her head silently, as if that were a response.

Blaine had shut himself in Sam's room...or Finn's room or whatever. Sam ran up the stairs and knocked. Getting no response, he announced, "Blaine, dude! I'm coming in!" before entering. But then, seeing Blaine standing at the window just staring out, he was at a loss for what to say or do. So he just stood behind him for a while with his arms around him.

Blaine turned and looked at Sam as if he were about to say something. But nothing came out. Sam ventured a guess. "Is your mom super mad at you?" Blaine didn't answer, so he figured that was it. "Dude, I'll go down and talk to her right now. It was totally my fault. I'll tell her that." He turned toward the door.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam," Blaine said. "Besides, she's not coming in."

"What do you mean? I really don't think Carole minds having her stay here. And I could totally sleep on the couch if that would help."

Blaine started to laugh. And he couldn't stop and got kind of hysterical. And he sat down on the floor, as if his legs had forgotten to keep holding him up.

"Blaine...You're kinda worrying me."

"No, but it's really funny," Blaine said, although he wasn't laughing anymore. "See, you know how she was out late last night cause she had work to finish?" Sam nodded. "Yeah, turns out not so much. She was at her _boyfriend's_."

"Holy..."

"I can't believe I was so fucking stupid. 'I have to stay late and finish up a project, Blaine,' and I'm all like, 'Yeah, okay, mom.' Because it never fucking occurred to me that all accountants don't have to work past midnight on a regular basis."

"Dude!" It was literally the only thing Sam could think to say.

"Yeah. And it turns out that she's been thinking of moving in with this douchebag anyway. So, hey, why not now?"

"That's so cold, man. I mean, I don't really know your mom, but that...that's just cold."

Blaine rested his forehead on the floor. "I really can't deal with this, Sam. I just...Can we not talk anymore tonight?"

Sam wordlessly crouched down and helped Blaine to his feet. He gently unbuttoned and removed Blaine's cardigan and pulled off the polo shirt underneath it. He studied Blaine's face carefully. He wanted to make sure, even if he couldn't talk, that Blaine was okay with what he wanted to do.

Blaine was the one who moved in for the kiss. He pulled Sam's head toward him and kissed him hard, angrily even. Sam couldn't blame him for being angry. In fact, he kind of wanted Blaine to hurt him. Blaine bit his neck and he moaned. But Blaine misinterpreted the moan as pain, as _unwanted_ pain, and he stopped.

Sam whispered, "I know I'm not supposed to talk, but I want you to be rough with me. Okay? Please? Don't worry that you're being too rough. I'll tell you if you are." Blaine studied him for a moment, considering, and then nodded. He kissed him hard again, sucking and chewing on his lower lip.

Then he pulled off Sam's shirt and slammed him against the wall. Sam let out an "Oh!"—but it wasn't a complaint. He held Sam's hands against the wall and bit and sucked all over his chest and neck. Keeping Sam pinned to the wall with his left arm, as if he might float away otherwise, Blaine undid Sam's jeans and pulled them down with his right hand. He knelt in front of him and held his hips in place.

"God, Blaine, this is really hot. Just, uh...just please don't bite my junk. Anywhere else, just not there."

Blaine didn't bite his dick. He did suck it vigorously. He sucked vigorously until Sam was on the very edge, and then he moved his mouth away and bit his inner thigh. "Oh fuuuck," Sam moaned.

He stood and removed a small bottle of lube and a condom from his jeans before taking them off. "Did you buy that while you were out with your mom?" Sam asked.

Blaine blushed. "She had to stop for gas. I went inside, told her I wanted a bottle of water. I just thought, you know, on the off chance—"

"Sorry," Sam said. "I didn't mean to start talking again. I just...I'm glad." Sam had condoms in his room but no lube. He did want Blaine to hurt him, but not _too_ bad.

"I forgot to even buy a bottle of water. She didn't notice."

Sam didn't want Blaine to start thinking about his mother again and getting upset. So he leaned in for a kiss, a tender, sweet one. No biting. Blaine did scratch his back during it though.

"Lay down on the bed." Sam stepped out of the jeans and boxers bunched up by his ankles and walked to the bed. He sat down, then started to lean back..."Face down," Blaine corrected him. Sam obediently flipped onto his stomach.

Sam turned his head to watch as Blaine stood next to him and slid out of his new Calvin Kleins. His cock was right in Sam's face. Sam opened his mouth tentatively. He was pretty sure that was what Blaine wanted. It was. As soon as he saw Sam's receptive lips open, he slid his dick in slowly. Sam made a muffled sound, almost but not quite like he was choking. Blaine stood as still as he could while Sam worked his tongue around. Then he closed his lips tightly around the cock and _sucked_. Blaine gasped and pulled Sam's hair.

He withdrew his cock from Sam's mouth and climbed onto the bed. Sam's legs were together; Blaine shoved them apart and crawled in between. He squirted some lube and rubbed it all around the hole. He put more lube on his finger and rubbed it inside. Sam clenched—just like before.

Blaine didn't remove the finger. He kept moving it around while he leaned forward and ran his teeth along the small of Sam's back. Sam was panting and starting to grind a bit. A little more relaxed, but not enough. Well, he said he wanted Blaine to be rough. He said he didn't want Blaine asking if he was okay.

Still, Blaine couldn't just slam it in. Even if Sam had asked him specifically to do that, he was too inexperienced to have any idea what that would do to him. He massaged Sam's cheeks with the hand that wasn't in his asshole. He squirted more lube on Sam and on a second finger. Sam whimpered as he eased it in. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam grunted.

"I know you asked me to be rough, but I can't...I just can't fuck you until you relax." There. It wasn't asking exactly, but it gave Sam a chance to back out if he wanted to.

Sam nodded. "Just give me a second." He took several deep breaths. He tried to remember the little bit of yoga he knew. It actually worked! He felt his whole body relax.

"There you go. Good, Sam, that's great." He worked some more lube in, stretched Sam a little further. "That's great because now I can fuck your ass properly."

Sam thought he was ready—Blaine had certainly been patient enough—but it still came as a shock. Blaine didn't inch it in gradually this time. Before Sam knew it there was a cock buried deep in his ass. He cried out, causing Blaine to shush him. He bit down hard on his pillow to stifle any more noises he might make. Also, biting down helped him be able to take it. Because Blaine was giving it to him—hard. And Blaine was pushing on Sam's back, pinning him to the mattress while he fucked him, so he couldn't even move. Or at least he liked the feeling that he couldn't, even though he knew he could stop it at any time if he really wanted to.

Blaine had given up on the no-talking thing, but he did keep his talk quiet so as not to attract parental attention. "Sam, your ass is amazing. I want to keep fucking this ass all night. I want to fuck you so you can't walk in the morning. I want to fuck you until we're both out of our fucking minds."

Sam was too overwhelmed with sensations to say much in response. Mostly "God!" and "Blaine!" and "Fuck me!" and "Please!" in various combinations. The intensity was now entirely pleasurable.

"You like it, don't you? You like my cock in your ass."

"God...Blaine...Fuck me, Blaine...God...Please!"

Sam reached the point where he couldn't take it anymore, he needed release. He let go of the sheet he'd been grasping and tried to move his hand to his cock. But Blaine stopped him. Blaine grabbed his hand and held it behind his back. "You don't get to come yet," he said.

"Blaine, please! God, please Blaine!" He really, really needed to come. It was all but inevitable, with or without the use of his hand. But he tried, he tried really hard not to yet.

Blaine let himself go. With a deep guttural moan, he dug his fingers into Sam's back as he released everything he had. His mind went blissfully blank.

Sam was still begging him. "Please, Blaine. I've gotta...Please?" Blaine flipped him onto his back and wrapped his mouth around his dick. He was just in time to catch the salty hot liquid: it filled his mouth and ran down the back of his throat. While Sam caught his breath he removed the condom and threw it away.

Sam stroked his shoulder and said, "That was incredible."

Moving up to give Sam a kiss, Blaine was horrified to see how many bruises and bite marks he'd left. He gently placed a hand on Sam's chest, between two of the biggest hickeys. "Oh, Jesus, Sam. Look what I did to you. I'm so—"

Sam covered his mouth to prevent him from finishing the sentence. "Don't apologize. I told you to. I wanted you to. I sort of needed you to."

Blaine looked at him confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"I...can't explain it. And anyway, you said you didn't want to talk tonight."

"Will you try to explain in the morning?"

"I'll try," Sam promised. He wrapped his arms around Blaine and they went to sleep.


	4. Monday: Brittany

Glee was practicing before _and_ after school now. The morning practice was usually a pretty good way to start the day, even if it meant a little less sleep. But Blaine and Sam were both dreading it on Monday.

They knew that pretty much everyone in glee club—pretty much everyone in the school—must have heard about the fire by Monday. But Blaine and Sam hadn't talked to any of them all weekend. Finn had stopped by briefly on Saturday and again on Sunday, and Kurt had called home as soon as he heard and talked to Blaine for a while. But they hadn't had any communications with any of the friends they saw in the choir room that morning.

Tina was the first one to jump up when they walked in. She ran to Blaine and grabbed him in a bear hug. "Blaine, are you okay? I've been so worried! I've been texting and calling you all weekend and you never answered!"

"We've all been calling and texting both of you," Artie said. "What up with ignoring us?"

"Sorry," Sam said. "Our phones were lost in the fire." Blaine, in fact, had a new one that has mother had bought him. It had all the same information as the old one—plus the latest upgrades, of course. But he hadn't even turned it on yet.

There was one person Sam really should have tried to contact, someone who had a right to expect to hear about something like this from him and not through the glee club grapevine. It wasn't until she walked in the room that he realized he hadn't thought about Brittany all weekend. Except once when his mom brought her up, but even then not really.

He ran over to her and scooped her up in a twirl hug. "I am so glad to see you. Let's go somewhere we can be alone for a few minutes." Maybe she hadn't heard yet—she had been out of town, after all. "I want to tell you about something crazy that happened while you were gone."

"You mean the fire at Blaine Warbler's?"

"You already heard? Brittany, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I just, I knew you had those college interviews and I didn't want you to worry."

Brittany touched his cheek. "Silly Sam. I wouldn't worry. Blonds can't be destroyed by fire. Our only weakness is..." she eyed the rest of the group suspiciously; they were mostly brunets. She whispered to Sam, "Our only weakness is you-know-what." Sam nodded. It was easier that way. "Blaine is just lucky you were there with him. You were his good luck charm."

"Yeah," Sam said. "He was _so_ lucky I was there." The sarcasm was lost on Brittany.

Most of the rehearsal was spent practicing a song that neither Brittany nor Sam had a part in. Brittany spent most of the time sitting in his lap and nuzzling him.

Blaine was singing the lead in the number the group was rehearsing. They had to start over several times because he kept forgetting his part. It was weird: Blaine _never_ forgot his parts. But, well, losing your home and coming close to losing your life (if not for your lucky blond friend) could probably do that to a person. No one blamed him.

They didn't blame him, but it_ was_ kind of annoying when he kept getting distracted during the after-school rehearsal too. Regionals were coming up, after all, and everyone was pretty much counting on Blaine. Kitty was sent to see if she could find out anything from Sam that might help.

"I'm sorry to break up this totally inappropriate PDA session," she announced to the making-out couple. Dear God, look at those hickeys Brittany had given him. "But I need to speak with Sam for a minute."

Brittany tried to stare down Kitty, but Kitty didn't budge. Finally Sam tried to nudge her off his lap. "Whatever it is, I'll try to keep it short," he told her.

"Don't worry," Kitty said as she flounced out the choir room. "Your human lollipop will be back soon."

"I love lollipops," Brittany said. "Can Sam be one of those swirly rainbow ones?"

Sam followed Kitty into the hallway.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the lockers. "What is it?"

"You need to tell us what's wrong with Blaine. We've got to fix him before regionals."

"What's wrong with Blaine? Well, let's see. He almost died and his house is destroyed and he's homeless and..." He trailed off.

"And? I knew there was more to it than you guys have told everyone."

"There's no more to it. Isn't that enough? And by the way, you'd think you could show a little more concern for Blaine and a little less about winning regionals."

"Don't give me that," Kitty snapped. "First of all, you want to win regionals as much as anyone, and so does Blaine. And second, we do care about Blaine. Well, the others do. And if they're going to be able to help him they need to know what's going on."

"Sorry to disappoint you. There's nothing else going on."

Sam turned toward the choir room, but Kitty grabbed his wrist. "Whatever it is, you know I'm going to find out. You could save us both a lot of trouble by just telling me."

Sam picked up Kitty's hand, removed it from his wrist, and returned to the choir room. Brittany didn't sit in his lap again. She whispered to him, "Come over to my house after practice."

"Oh. Well, I came with Blaine. I mean we carpooled to school. So it might not work today..."

"Please?" Brittany pouted at him. "I'm leaving to tour MIT on Wednesday. And I really want to talk to you."

"Yeah, okay." He really should talk to her. He didn't know what he'd say, but he knew he should say something. And her house was only a couple miles from the Hummel-Hudsons', so it didn't really matter that he wouldn't have a car. "I just have to talk to Blaine first. Tell him I don't need a ride home."

Blaine stopped mid-song again. "I'm sorry," he said to Sam. "Is my singing interrupting your talking?"

"Dude..." Sam stood up.

Blaine walked toward him. "No, I mean it must be really important. Why don't you tell all of us what's so important?"

Mr. Schuester stepped between them. "Okay, guys. I think we've all had enough practicing for today. We'll try again tomorrow." Most of the kids grabbed their stuff and left. Brittany and Kitty stayed in their seats; Sam and Blaine stood motionless, Mr. Schue still between them.

"Dude, can I talk to you for a minute?" Sam asked quietly.

"Sure. Talk. I'm all ears."

"I meant..." Damn it, he knew Blaine knew he wanted to talk privately. But fine. If that's the way he wanted to be. "I don't need a ride home. I'm going over to Brittany's."

"Fine. I'll see you whenever."

They turned and walked out opposite doors. Brittany followed Sam; Mr. Schue and Kitty watched silently.

XOXOXO

Blaine just wanted to crawl into his bed and never get up. _His_ bed, which he would never see again. Sleeping in Finn's bed was weird. It did smell like Sam though, so it wasn't all bad.

Sam...God damn it. Well, what did he expect? Sam never told him, never even hinted that he wanted to dump Brittany and be with Blaine. It was just a weird one-...well, three-time thing. He should be happy that he had had that. And having Sam as a friend, he should be happy he had that too. He still had that, right? Sam promised they'd always be friends. Had Sam ever lied to him?

He crawled into Finn's bed, into Finn's Sam- and sex-scented bed, and pulled the covers over his head. He would never sleep with Sam again. He would probably never sleep with anyone again. He'd spend the rest of his life alone and die the same way.

Okay, he knew he was being a bit melodramatic. He just...even if he couldn't fuck Sam anymore, he wanted to literally sleep with him. No one had ever held him like Sam had, no one had made him feel calmer or safer.

But Carole had put the kibosh on them sharing a room. As soon as Sam's mom had left, she'd announced that Sam would be moving into Kurt's room. She hadn't left any room for discussion; if she had, Blaine might have suggested that it would make more sense for _him_ to take Kurt's room, so Sam wouldn't have to move all his stuff. Sam was already pretty well settled in Finn's. But maybe she thought it would be weird for Blaine to sleep in his ex-boyfriend's room. And it kind of would have been.

Carole had hardly even left them alone at all on Sunday. It was probably best though. This way he could pretend that Carole was the reason they couldn't be together. It was way better than Sam's lack of interest being the reason.

Blaine wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn't even do that. He had to leave in about half an hour to meet his mother for dinner. Fuck it, maybe he should just not go. Call her up and say, "I'm so sorry, mom. I have to stay at school late to finish a fucking project." Or just not even fucking show up, not call or anything. He wondered how long she'd sit around waiting for him. Yeah, that's what he'd do.

He settled in for a nice nap. With any luck he'd sleep straight through till morning.

Of course, he couldn't do that without falling asleep in the first place. And he couldn't fall asleep. He kept thinking about Sam, predictably enough. God damn it.

But seriously. Did he and Brittany really have to carry on like that right in front of him? Right in front of God and everybody? He was sort of sorry he'd created a scene, but really. If he hadn't said something they probably would have started fucking right there.

He wondered if they were fucking right now. _Blaine, don't even._ But he couldn't help it. He knew they probably were. Sam's beautiful cock was probably inside Brittany at this very moment. And Brittany couldn't possibly appreciate it enough. She could get any guy she wanted to fuck her. And she probably had. Why couldn't she just get back together with Santana already and leave Sam alone? Or how about that girl she "didn't cheat" on Sam with? Or Artie—Artie would be thrilled to take Brittany back. And Artie was a nice guy. It wasn't that Blaine wanted Brittany to be unhappy.

Not that he'd mind her being unhappy, if it meant he could be with Sam. Oh God, that was a terrible thing to think. Of course he'd mind if Brittany were unhappy because of him.

He was actually kind of relieved when Carole knocked on the door and asked if he didn't have to leave pretty soon to meet his mother. Dealing with her couldn't be worse torture than he was already putting himself through.

XOXOXO

Sam and Brittany didn't talk on the drive to her house. Sam tried never to talk to her while she was driving—she was not someone who could focus on two things at once. And anyway, Sam was silently praying to arrive at her house safely. When they did, he sent up a silent thank-you.

They went in and dropped their stuff on the floor of her bedroom. "How was Princeton?" Sam asked. "Do you think you're gonna go there?"

Brittany pushed him onto his back on the bed.

"Or, uh, do you want to look at MIT before you make up your mind?"

She straddled him and rubbed against his cock. It was the fastest and most effective way to get him in the mood. Especially when she had her little Cheerios uniform on.

"I thought you wanted to talk?"

"After." She stopped rubbing for a minute and studied his face. "What's wrong? You've never been reluctant before." She pulled off her Cheerios top.

"Who says I'm reluctant?" Sam reached up and unfastened her bra and cupped her breasts with his hands. Jesus, they were nice. See, that was something he'd never get from Blaine. On the other hand, Blaine had that lovely cock.

All right, time to stop thinking about Blaine. _Brittany is your girlfriend. And she's hot and she wants you_. How weird was it that he had to psych himself up to fuck his super hot girlfriend? Pretty fucking weird.

He rolled them over so he was on top. He wouldn't get distracted with thoughts of Blaine if he concentrated on her awesome chest. Not that Blaine's chest wasn't awesome too. Damn it!

Brittany could tell Sam wasn't into it. He was probably going to break up with her. That's why she wanted to fuck first, before he had a chance to dump her. She wouldn't try to keep him if he wanted to go. She just wanted this one last time with him. She'd had sex with lots of people, and Sam was easily in the top three. And she really meant it when she told him he was good at cunnilingus. The best, in fact, among the guys anyway.

Clearly if Brittany wanted their last time to be good she was going to have to take charge. She rolled Sam back onto his back and pulled his jeans and boxers off. He loved having his cock sucked. What guy didn't? Brittany didn't exactly love doing it, but she didn't mind. She ran her fingernails lightly—and then not so lightly—across his balls while she bobbed her head up and down on him. Ah, there! There were his happy noises. She kept sucking him until his happy noises hit that pitch that told her she had to stop if she didn't want a load of semen in her mouth or on her face.

Usually he talked to her while they were messing around. He said her name. He wasn't doing that now. She assumed it was because he was afraid he'd say the wrong name.

She removed the panty part of the uniform but left the skirt on. Sam usually liked that. Yeah, he looked like he liked it now. This was a little better. She got a condom from her dresser and unrolled it onto him. "Are you ready for me, Sam?" He nodded. She straddled him, lowered herself onto his cock. Ooooh...she was going to miss this.

Sam said something. She wasn't sure, but it sounded like it was "reverse reverse cowgirl." That boy said very bizarre things sometimes. It was one of the things she loved about him.

Brittany didn't generally talk during sex. But since Sam wasn't saying anything...she felt like at least one of them should demonstrate that they knew who they were screwing. "Sam," she said as she rode his cock. "Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam."

"Britt. God, Britt."

That was more like it. That was—oh Jesus, here it came. She didn't usually talk during sex, but she did scream during orgasms. This time she was feeling extra-loud. She opened her throat and held nothing back as she bounced on his dick, grinding and squeezing and pulling and never letting it go.

Sam came way before Brittany was done. He was a good lover; he always kept her going as long as he could. He gently rolled her off of him and buried his face between her legs. His tongue was amazingly strong, and he knew how to use it. He held her hips in place, which both frustrated her and intensified her orgasm.

They were both exhausted when she finally finished. They dozed off with Sam's head resting on Brittany's thigh. They woke when Lord Tubbington scratched and hissed outside the door. He'd never really liked Sam, and he especially didn't like being kicked out of the room when Sam was there. Brittany got up and let him in. "It's your own fault you're not allowed in here when Sam and I are having sexy time," she told him. "Remember when you filmed us and tried to sell the sex tape to the tabloids?"

Lord Tubbington jumped onto the window sill and looked down at Sam disdainfully. Brittany got back on the bed and rested her head on Sam's chest.

"Britt? Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Never mind," she said. "It can wait."

Sam got dressed and kissed Brittany. She kind of liked tasting herself on his breath. "Are you sure? I have to run if I'm going to get home in time for dinner, but if it's important..."

"It isn't."

Sam wasn't exaggerating when he said he had to run. He only had like twenty minutes. He hated to be late for dinner when Carole went to the trouble to cook; it was just rude.

Running home felt good, especially since he hadn't worked out all weekend. And it kind of helped clear his mind. He was all sweaty and gross when he got there, though. "Am I late?" he asked Carole.

"No. In fact, dinner's a few minutes late. Enough time for you to go take a shower." He did, and he felt much better when he came downstairs in fresh athletic shorts and a fresh t-shirt.

He set the table for three and poured milk and water while Carole took the chicken and roasted vegetables out of the oven and brought them to the table. "I'll go get Blaine," Sam said.

"He's not joining us. He went to dinner with his mother."

Shit. Poor Blaine. And Sam thought his lunch with _his _mom yesterday had been awkward. He should have known that nothing that started with his mom taking him to church was going to lead to fun times.

"Blaine, would you like to come with us?" Mary Evans had asked. She and Sam were almost ready to leave for church. Blaine was in his pajamas, drinking coffee in the kitchen.

"Mom! Blaine does not want to go to church with us."

"Sam, how do you know? Maybe he'd like to." She'd smiled at Blaine, who looked from her to Sam with a puzzled expression.

"Mother, can I speak to you in the living room, please?" Sam mouthed the word _sorry _at Blaine as he followed his mom out of the kitchen.

"What is the matter with you, Sam? That boy has been through so much. He might find some comfort in church."

"Mom, Blaine is _gay._ Our church is not exactly gay-friendly. In fact, do you want to know why I stopped going? Because the new pastor there is obsessed with the gays. They're destroying 'traditional marriage,'" he said, with air quotes. "They're ruining society. It's all a bunch of bullshit. And I don't think Blaine would find it very comforting."

Mary frowned. "New pastor? Pastor Himmel isn't there anymore? He was always so compassionate."

"He was all right," Sam conceded. "But he's not there anymore."

Sam's mother had refrained from inviting Blaine again. The service hadn't been horrible. The new guy didn't talk about the gays at all, for once. Maybe he didn't care as much now that the election was long past. Or maybe he just felt he'd been neglecting other burning issues he wanted to rant about. Today's topic was teen pregnancy, or so Sam surmised. He hadn't paid much attention, especially when it was clear it was going to be an abstinence-only speech.

Yeah, like that was ever going to work. Had this guy ever _been _a teenager?

After church Sam had gone with his mother to the diner the whole family always used to go to after church. That was when Pastor Himmel was still there and before Sam's dad lost his job and they couldn't afford to eat out ever, even at a cheap diner.

Sam ordered blueberry pancakes, his old usual. Breakfast for lunch: almost as good as breakfast for dinner. Mary got French toast.

After they gave their menus back to the waitress, Sam's mom started stirring her coffee, even though there was no cream or sugar in it. "So..." she said. "That service wouldn't have been too bad for Blaine. Nothing about homosexuality."

"No," Sam admitted. "Just by luck."

"Sam...I don't know how to ask this..."

"Just ask," he said. He sort of dreaded where this might be going.

"You said you stopped going to church because the new pastor...what's his name again?"

"Kline."

"Pastor Kline. You said you stopped going because Pastor Kline was too anti-gay. But I always thought, I mean, you're..."

"I'm not gay?"

"You're not? Well, that's what I thought."

"Ooo-kay." Sam stirred the ice around in his Diet Mountain Dew.

"Well, not really okay, Sam. Because..." Mary leaned in and lowered her voice. "Because Carole and I could hear you and Blaine in your room last night. _And_ Friday night."

"Oh." Sam felt his face burning.

"Did you really think we wouldn't hear? Or that I wouldn't notice the marks on your neck? Or that we wouldn't wonder why you had to wash the sheets first thing yesterday morning? What did they have on them? Blood? Did you—" The waitress came to refill their drinks. Mary studied the silverware carefully until she left. Then she whispered, "Did you make that poor boy bleed?"

"No one made anyone bleed." Well, except one or two of the bites on Sam's chest. But it was nothing serious.

"Then what...? The sheets?"

"You, uh. You probably don't want to know."

"Probably not, but tell me anyway."

She wasn't going to let it drop, or even stop looking at him until he answered. He couldn't bring himself to tell her what it actually was. _Oh, that was just a bit of santorum. You don't know what santorum is? It's a word I just learned from Blaine. I've learned a _lot _from Blaine. Santorum is the frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex._ Yeah, that conversation was not going to happen. "Okay, it was blood. Just a tiny bit."

"Sam!" She shook her head at him sadly while the waitress put their food down.

"Anything else I can get you?"

Sam's mom didn't stop looking at him and shaking her head. Sam told her, "No, thanks. We're good." The waitress left them.

Sam picked up his fork, but he couldn't eat with the way his mom was looking at him. "Look, mom—"

"Hold on, honey. I've been thinking a lot about this. Let me say what I have to say first." She paused, as if expecting him to object. When he didn't, she continued. "The Bible's pretty clear on, if not _homosexuality_ as an orientation, then at least homosexual acts." She held up a hand to forestall any protest. "Now, I'm not saying it's the worst thing, according to the Bible. It didn't make the top ten even. And people like Blaine..."

Sam was on guard to defend Blaine against whatever she was about to say. But it wasn't necessary. She continued, "People like Blaine...I honestly don't think he chose to be gay. I really think it's something he was born with. He does have a choice about whether he engages in...sexual activity with other boys. But...but there are lots of other sexual activities that teenagers engage in that are not condoned by the Bible. Like I know you've been sleeping with your girlfriend Brittany." She gave him a look and he blushed.

"So I understand why someone like Blaine would have sex with boys. I don't approve, just like I don't approve of you being sexually active with Brittany. But I do understand it. What I don't understand..." Sam set his fork down. "I don't understand how someone like you...I mean, you do actually like girls, right? You're not just 'in the closet,' are you? Dating girls to cover up your actual orientation?"

"No. I really do like girls."

"So then why...For goodness's sake, you already have a girlfriend. _And_ you're already having sex withher. And by the way, I don't care what this Pastor Kline says, but you'd better be using birth control." She looked a him for confirmation, and he nodded. "So...I know you're a teenage boy and your hormones are all out of control, but this...this I just don't understand. Blaine might not be able to pick who he's attracted to, but you actually can. Or you can at least pick which attractions to act on. So why not, if you feel like you have to act on them at all, why not at least limit yourself to the ones that are..."

"Normal?"

"I wasn't going to use that word."

"I don't know, mom." He'd gone around and around with it in his head, and he still didn't really understand it either. "All I know is that we started out acquaintances, and then we became friends, and then best friends, and he got a crush on me, and—I don't know when exactly—but I fell for him too. He's just so nice and sweet and warm and cute. I feel good when I'm around him and I miss him when I'm not. And I never planned to do anything about it. I mean, I wanted to, but...but anyway, stuff just kind of happened—only really recently, actually—and it led to other stuff, and..."

Mary took a sip of her coffee. She still hadn't taken a bite of her French toast. For that matter, Sam hadn't eaten much of his breakfast either. Mary reached across the table and brushed Sam's hair off his forehead. "I worry about you, honey. You know I'll always love you no matter what, right?"

"I know, mom."

"And please. You know I'd strongly prefer you that you wait until you're married or at least until you're an adult and in a committed relationship. And I have to say this: stop having sex with Blaine. Okay? That's what I'm officially telling you to do. But if you ignore me and don't stop, at least go a little easier on him. I'm worried about him too."

Sam shifted in his seat. He was the one who could still feel the last two nights, but he didn't see any reason to mention this detail. "I will."

"And for goodness's sake keep it down. That is not something Carole or anyone else wants to hear."

XOXOXO

Sam hung out with Carole in the living room after dinner. Well, not really hung out, except that they both happened to be in the same room. Carole was organizing her photos. Sam was reading _The Jungle_ for English. That book was fucked up. It was turning him off meat completely.

It wasn't that late when Blaine got back. He started to go straight upstairs to his room—Finn's room—but Carole called him over. "How are you doing?" she asked gently.

In response, Blaine walked to the unoccupied couch and fell onto it face first. Sam went to sit on the floor next to him. He patted his shoulder and rubbed his back. It felt so good Blaine thought he would cry. "Please don't," he said. He couldn't...he didn't know what Sam wanted, but he was pretty sure it wasn't the same as what he wanted. And if Sam wasn't interested, he couldn't just go touching Blaine like that and messing with his head.

"Sorry," Sam said. He put his hands in his lap, clasped together so he'd be less likely to forget that Blaine didn't want to be touched by him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

They stayed like that for a long time: Sam aching to touch Blaine, Blaine aching to be touched, both thinking the other didn't want it.

Finally Sam announced he was going upstairs to finish his homework. Blaine reached out to put his hand on his shoulder. "She wants me to meet the boyfriend. She wants me to meet him and go _house-hunting_ with the two of them."

"Jesus."

"Blaine, honey," Carole said. Sam and Blaine had both sort of forgotten she was there. "The last thing I want is to get between you and your family. But you can stay here as long as you want."

"Thank you," Blaine said into the cushion.

Sam couldn't help it. He needed to give Blaine some kind of physical contact. The least offensive way he could think of was a playful punch in the arm. Not really a punch even. A gentle tap. But with a first, so it looked like a bro thing. Blaine returned the tap-punch and got up. "I have homework to do too," he said.

"Me too," said Sam. They exchanged searching looks at the top of the stairs and then went into their respective bedrooms without a word.

Sam couldn't concentrate on his homework—who was he kidding? Even when life was normal he had trouble with homework. The only thing that really made it bearable was when Blaine helped him. And this was obviously not a good time to ask.

He got into bed and tried to at least read some more of _The Jungle_. But it was no use. He got the characters' names mixed up and kept losing his place and having to re-read the same paragraph.

He wanted to go to Blaine, wanted to see if he was okay, to say he was sorry for the way he acted in glee. But he was pretty sure Blaine hated him now. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how he'd managed to fuck everything up so royally.

If only he hadn't decided to bake that stupid cake. Because, let's be honest, when he suggested it to Blaine, he was already thinking that maybe something would happen if they hung out for a while at Blaine's house. So, basically he had already decided to cheat on Brittany. And yeah, it was cheating. He knew that, no matter what her "rules" were. And even if the first time wasn't cheating, the next two were. He hadn't even made any pretense even of following "the rules" Friday and Saturday.

So really, everything that had happened—Blaine losing his house and his family, Blaine and Sam losing each other as friends, Sam losing Brittany—it was all because of his cheating. It wasn't worth it. It was awesome—the sex with Blaine, that is—but it so wasn't worth the pain he had caused for everyone. He at least deserved the pain. But Blaine and Brittany didn't. Carole didn't. Blaine's dad didn't.

There was a knock at his door. "Come in."

Blaine stuck his head in. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to bed already."

"Nah, come on in." Sam sat up as much as he could without uncovering himself too much. He was in just his boxers; he didn't want to make Blaine uncomfortable. "I can't sleep anyway." He knew he didn't deserve Blaine's friendship or even his company, but he craved both.

Blaine stepped inside tentatively. "I just...I just felt like taking a study break. And, you know, it's been kinda weird not talking to you all day. I mean, we're still friends, aren't we?"

"Are we?" Sam asked. He saw that Blaine looked worried when he said that. It must have not sounded how it meant it to. "You don't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?"

Sam could think of lots of reasons, but he didn't say them. He just let out a relieved sigh and said, "Thank God. Unless...was that not a rhetorical question?"

Blaine walked to the desk and sat down, grinning slightly. "It was totally rhetorical."

"Dude, I'm so sorry about glee club. I mean, talking during your song. That was so rude. And, you know...everything."

"No, it's cool. I get it." _Brittany is your girlfriend. You're in love with her, not with me_. "I overreacted."

"Don't blame yourself for me being a douche."

Blaine wished Sam hadn't used the word _douche_. It called to mind the female anatomy, which called to mind Brittany's anatomy. And if he carried the thought further—he really didn't want to carry the thought further. "So, uh. Did you guys have fun? You and Brittany? At her house?" _Way to get your mind of Brittany's anatomy, Blaine._

Sam shrugged. "I guess."

"Did you..." _Shut up, Blaine. Shut up. _"Did you?" Damn it, Sam was just looking at him like he didn't know what he meant. He fucking well did know what he meant. God damn him, he was going to make Blaine say it. _Don't say it, Blaine. "Never mind." Just say, "Never mind" and change the subject. _"Did you fuck her?"

Sam looked at his hands. Blaine looked at them too and pictured them on his body. Then pictured them on Brittany's body. God damn it. "Yeah," Sam said quietly.

"I'm sorry." Blaine stood up. "I shouldn't have asked you that. It's none of my business." He walked out of the room but didn't shut the door.

Sam kept sitting in bed, staring at his hands. Blaine fucking hated him now. And with good cause.

Blaine returned a few minutes later. "Can I ask you a huge favor? I know I don't have any right to and you'll probably say no and that's totally fine."

"Anything," Sam said.

"Can I sleep with you tonight? Just sleep, I promise I won't try anything. I'll be totally dressed in pj's—or even in regular clothes if you want—and you can be too. I just...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Of course you can," Sam said. "Don't apologize. Of course."

"I...Thank you, Sam." Blaine went back to his room to get changed. Sam got up to put something on. He didn't really have any pajamas. He put the athletic shorts back on and a long-sleeve t-shirt. It didn't seem like enough. He added some socks.

Blaine knocked and entered in a striped flannel ensemble that was fucking adorable on him. They were just going to sleep, Sam reminded himself. Just sleep.

Sam closed the door softly behind Blaine. No need to attract Carole's attention, even if they weren't actually doing anything. He gestured to the bed and said, "After you."

Blaine lay down on his back on the far right edge of the bed and pulled the covers up. Sam got under the covers with him, on his back on the far left edge. Kurt had a queen bed, so they didn't have to touch at all.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I usually sleep on my right side. Do you mind if I turn toward you?"

"No, of course not. I actually usually sleep on my right side too." He rolled over so his back was to Sam. Sam turned toward him.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I scoot a little closer to you? I promise I won't do anything except maybe...spoon you?"

"Okay."

They both scooted to the middle of the bed. Sam draped his arm over Blaine and held him firmly, felt Blaine relax into him. He rested his chin on Blaine's shoulder. He loved the smell of Blaine, even through all that watermelon-scented hair gel. Hell, he had even grown to love the scent of the gel itself.

Sam felt himself grow hard. He didn't dare move an inch. He didn't want Blaine to think he was trying anything. He desperately wanted to try something, but he'd already promised he wouldn't. Maybe Blaine wouldn't notice. Or maybe he'd think Sam was asleep and couldn't help it. And the last part of that was true.

Blaine could feel Sam's hard cock against his ass. Did that mean...? No. It probably meant he was thinking about Brittany. He wanted so badly to press himself into Sam, but he knew he was just lucky he hadn't already sent Sam screaming from him. It was driving him insane though. Maybe Sam was asleep and he could...God, he couldn't believe he was even contemplating jerking off while his straight best friend slept next to him, was holding him even. That was just creepy. Maybe he should slide out of bed and jerk off in the bathroom. But then how would he get under Sam's arm again without waking him? No, he couldn't leave Sam's embrace, even if it was torturing him. He held still, just hoping Sam wouldn't turn away from him in his sleep.


	5. Tuesday: Kitty

Sam was trying to listen to his history teacher talk about the treaty of something or other. He was trying, but without much success. First he gave up on trying to understand, then he gave up on trying to look like he was listening, and finally he gave up on trying to stay awake. He really hadn't slept the night before. He felt his head dropping and his brain drifting off. It felt so good. Why had he been fighting this?

He awoke with a start. Mr. Hollister had dropped a heavy book on his desk. "Sam Evans, stand up," he said and he kept talking about the treaty or whatever. Sam had to stand for the rest of the class. It did keep him from falling asleep again. It didn't keep his mind from drifting.

Seriously, what was he going to do? He and Brittany hadn't really talked yesterday. She already knew he was falling for Blaine-she didn't know how much, probably, but she knew-and she said she wanted to talk to him. So...why had she changed her mind? And for that matter, why hadn't Sam brought it up? Confessed? Probably because he was still scared of being dumped.

He had to talk to Brittany. Tell her everything. Wait, everything? How should he start? And what about-

"Sam Evans?"

"Huh?" He looked around. About half the class thought his predicament was funny, and about half were sympathetic. And then there was Kitty, his only fellow glee clubber in the class. He couldn't decipher her expression at all.

"I asked you about the League of Nations."

"Sorry. Could you repeat the question?"

Saved by the bell! It felt like the first break Sam had caught in a long time. He was actually glad now that he was standing: it meant he could make a quick getaway. It was his lunch period. Maybe he could grab a quick nap in the library.

Kitty grabbed him outside the classroom. "Are you going to tell me what's up with you and Anderson?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, I know the Treaty of Versailles doesn't set your nerves a-tingling. But you've never fallen asleep in class before."

"I was tired. I didn't sleep well. What does that have to do with Blaine anyway?"

"He was off his game again, stumbling through his rehearsal-again. And you two are living together, no? So, what, were you up all night pillow fighting and painting each other's toenails? If so, knock it the hell off until after regionals."

"Fuck off, Kitty." Sam tried to walk toward the library but she blocked him.

"I'll tell you what, Evans. You're tired. Blaine's tired-at least I hope that's all. There's a cure for that. Let me take you guys to the Lima Bean, get you a liquid stimulant for lunch. But one of you has to drive because I don't have my license yet."

The last person Sam wanted to spend his lunch hour with was Kitty. But coffee did sound really good. And he was kind of too tired to argue anyway. So the next thing he knew they had tracked down Blaine and were getting into his car to go to the Lima Bean.

When they got there, Kitty had to make a big show of this being her treat. Not only was she going to pay, but she was going to stand in line and order for the three of them.

So Sam had a few minutes to talk to Blaine alone. It wasn't the ideal time, but then...well, that's exactly what he'd told himself when he'd chickened out of talking to him at breakfast, or before glee, or after glee. Time to just lay it all out there.

"Blaine..." he looked in Blaine's eyes. Jesus, they were pretty. Why did Blaine have to be so...? "Blaine. Look. I've come to a realization. I've ruined your life-"

"You haven't ruined my life, Sam."

"I'm not even going to argue with you on that because we both know I have. And I've figured out why. It's karma."

"Karma, Sam? Seriously?"

"I'm totally serious. Look, if I had just been honest with Brittany, if I had said, 'Britt, you're sweet, but I can't be with you because I'm falling in...because I'm into Blaine now,' and if _then_ I'd been honest with you and said, "Blaine, I know you have a crush on me but what you may not know is that I have a crush on you too and would you like to go on a date sometime'...You know, if I had done the normal, decent, and honorable thing, none of this would have happened. But instead I cheated on Brittany-"

"I thought it wasn't cheating."

"Well, that's what I wanted to tell myself."

"But then wait. If what you and I did was cheating, then what Brittany and that girl did was cheating too. So why didn't Brittany's house burn down?"

"I dunno, man. Maybe Laura's house did burn down. Laura, that was the girl's name. After all, it wasn't my house, it was yours."

"Yeah, and about that. If karma's biting _you _in the ass, why did it burn _my _house down?"

"Probably because I care about you so much."

Kitty came over with their coffee then, which was good, because what more was there to say? Well, there was tons more to say, but Sam had exhausted his mental resources on what he'd said so far. "What are you guys talking about?" Kitty asked faux-innocently.

"Nothing," Sam said.

"Sam thinks the fire was because of karma," Blaine said.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, Sam," Kitty said. "I thought you were a Christian."

"Yeah." He guessed.

"There's no karma in Christianity. Karma is in Taoism."

"What is...Well then what does Christianity have?"

"Wrath of God."

XOXOXO

There they were, coming back to school late from a lunch date. How many new hickeys did he have? Her delicious human lollipop.

She wouldn't necessarily mind sharing him, if it was only physical. Those swirly rainbow lollipops, they never really ran out, no matter how many people licked them. Sure, maybe you ended up sharing some spit with someone you wouldn't otherwise want to share spit with. But sharing was generous, and generosity was good. It was worth a little incidental spit-swapping.

But this wasn't only physical. She could be okay with her lollipop having someone else's hickeys on his chest. But he was getting someone else's hickeys on his heart.

XOXOXO

Blaine wasn't sure how Kitty knew what he needed, but the coffee really helped. She must have had them put three or four shots of espresso in it, at least. He was super alert in calculus; he could see the graphs in his head before he drew them. They looked much better in his head, in fact; his handwriting was a little shaky. He was jumpy in European lit, jumpy and overemotional. They were discussing _The Sorrows of Young Werther._ Blaine wasn't normally into the old stuff, but this Sturm und Drang stuff...it really spoke to him for some reason. He could see very clearly that he was Werther and Sam was Charlotte and Brittany was Albert. He was only half-way through the book, and he really, really wanted Charlotte to find a way to let Albert down easily. She had to, right? So that she could be with Werther, who loved her so much it consumed him.

He was glad Sam wasn't in his European lit class. He probably would have broken down in front of the whole class.

By the time school was over and he had his second glee rehearsal of the day, he was crashing. He was crashing and he felt more emotionally fragile than ever. He knew he had to pull himself together. He was the lead vocalist; everyone was counting on him. He had to be professional, and part of being professional was separating your personal...inner turmoil...from your art. Of course he could do that.

Unless...he wasn't sure he could hold it together if Brittany was all over Sam again. _Please, don't let Brittany be all over Sam again._

Mr. Schuester was late. Blaine knew he should probably get everyone started anyway-it's what he would normally do-but he didn't have the energy. And if he wasn't going to do it, no one else was either.

Everyone just sat around talking in their little sub-groups. Marley, Jake, and Ryder. Blaine wondered abstractly how that little love triangle was going to play out, although, honestly, he didn't much care. Unique was talking to Tina and Artie. Tina kept trying to bring him into their conversation, but he didn't feel like talking to anyone. Joe and Sugar-as the two least important glee club members, they were probably discussing their strategy for standing in the background and swaying. God, that was mean. Why would he be so mean? Joe and Sugar were nice, and they were valuable contributors to the performances they, uh, performed in. Damn this caffeine crash. He couldn't even think straight.

And then there was the couple he'd been trying not to look at. At least she wasn't sitting on his lap this time. She was holding his hand. It was Brittany holding Sam's hand, right? Not Sam holding Brittany's. Not that it mattered. Sam could hold his girlfriend's hand if he wanted to. Just like Charlotte was probably going to go through with her marriage to Albert. _All right, calm the fuck down. Sam is not going to marry Brittany. Again._ They were just talking. Well, and holding hands, but mainly just talking. Sam didn't look so hot. He was probably coming down off his caffeine high too.

Brittany was telling Sam they needed to talk privately after glee. He was confirming to her that what she had to do was the right thing by the way he was holding her hand. Or rather, not holding it. Just letting it lie there limply in hers.

She was a little worried about how he'd take the breakup. He would never again have sex as good as he had with her. She wasn't being conceited by thinking this, just realistic. And Sam didn't know this yet because he was still too smitten. Well, she wouldn't tell him. He'd find out on his own soon enough.

The real problem, now, was that she didn't know if he realized how just how bewitched he was. Maybe he thought he was still in love with Brittany. Or maybe he just wanted to still be in love with Brittany, was trying to still be in love with her. Maybe he was worried about how _she'd_ be. She'd be fine, of course. She'd miss him, but she'd be fine. Better to be alone than with someone who's in love with someone else. And how long would she really be alone, anyway?

She told him, "Come over to my place after practice. I should've talked to you about something yesterday, but I didn't. It's really important."

"I know we need to talk, Britt. But I..." _I don't want to end up screwing again. It felt weird and disloyal. Awesome, but wrong._ "I have a ton of homework to do." _Way to man up, Sam._

Kitty and Mr. Schuester walked in together. Mr. Schue was saying, "Kitty, glee is not the Cheerios. I'm sorry, but we're not going to form a human pyramid at regionals."

"But we'd be the only ones who did it."

"No."

Kitty turned in a huff and planted herself in the seat next to Sam's. She whispered to him, "I hope your little pick-me-up is still doing its thing."

"No," he said, not looking at her.

"Sam." Brittany turned his face so he would look at her. "Just go to her. I know how you feel. You two can be together."

The whole glee club was now watching and listening intently.

"Brittany, I..." Wait, _her_? "Who are you talking about?"

"You don't have to pretend anymore, Sammy. I know you're in love with Kitty."

"What?" Sam said.

"What!?" Kitty said.

"And I want you two to be happy. I really do. I just...I need to be alone for a little while." The whole club watched in stunned silence as Brittany ran out of the room.

When she was gone, all eyes turned to Sam and Kitty. Sam leaned forward to tell Kitty under his breath, "I'm not in love with you."

"I should hope not," Kitty whispered back. "I'm not into the Barney type."

"Seriously? I remind you of Barney? The dinosaur?"

"No, the Flintstone."

Was that sarcasm? Wait. Sam realized everyone was staring. "I'm not in love with Kitty," he announced. "I'm...I've gotta go find Brittany." And he ran off after her.

XOXOXO

Sam was all sweaty from running home from Brittany's again. Blaine was waiting for him in the living room.

"Sam-"

"I'm not in love with Kitty."

"That's not what I was going to ask." But he _was_ actually glad to hear it, absurd as the idea was. "I was going to ask, would you mind taking a shower and changing?"

"Why? Can you smell me from there?"

Blaine sniffed the air, and he could, a little. "No, it's not that. And anyway you always smell good to me." Why the fuck did he have to say that? "I wanted to invite you...no, _invite_ is the wrong word. I wanted to beg you to please, please come with me to dinner with my mother and her...her..."

"Oh. Golly, that sounds like fun, Blaine."

"It's going to be excruciating. He's such a smug, smarmy, shitheaded...Help me out here, Sam."

Sam took him in his arms. Blaine had meant, help him with coming up with more insults. But this was way better. Sam really did smell good, even when he was all sweaty. "I can't go by myself," he said, his words muffled by Sam's sticky chest. "They'll outnumber me, and I just...I just..."

"Shh. It's okay. Of course I'll go with you. Have you told Carole? I hope she hasn't started cooking yet."

"Yeah, I told her. She seemed pretty relieved, actually, to have us both gone for a while."

"I can't imagine why," Sam said. He loosened his grip on Blaine and patted him on the back. "Give me ten minutes, okay? What should I wear, by the way?"

"Whatever. We're going to that new steakhouse. But I'm going to deliberately underdress, so literally anything you feel like."

Sam came back downstairs in athletic shorts and a white t-shirt with paint stains on it.

"Wow," Blaine said. "I meant I wasn't going to wear a tie."

"Not wearing a tie is not underdressing, dude. This is Ohio."

"Yeah, but..."

"You want to piss her off, right?"

"Good point. Hey, you know what would be even better? If you hadn't taken a shower."

"Way ahead of you, dude. I _didn't_."

The smell was much stronger when they got into the car. "Jesus, I'm even offending myself," Sam said as he rolled down his window. "Sorry. I should have taken you having to sit in an enclosed space with me into consideration."

"Don't worry about me." Blaine was actually giggling. His mother was going to shit a brick. He had toned his own outfit down further. He was wearing jeans with a hole in one knee and one of Sam's flannel shirts. Not that there was anything wrong with Sam's shirt per se, but he knew his mother was not a fan of flannel. Or of him wearing clothes that were too large. Blaine had considered buttoning it unevenly, but no, that was too much. He did leave the top two buttons undone, however.

That air coming in through the window was cold. There was a chance of snow later on. Sam must be freezing. Look, he was covered in goose bumps. Blaine rolled up his window.

"Dude, what are you doing? You'll suffocate us both."

"No, I won't, but _you_ actually might catch your death of cold. I shouldn't have let you go out like that. It's not really shorts and t-shirt weather."

"Well. Thanks. I'll totally roll it down again if you start to feel overwhelmed by the fumes."

"Fumes," Blaine scoffed. "Please."

An uncomfortable silence settled.

"So..." Sam started. "How was glee practice?"

"Terrible," Blaine said. "You don't want to hear-"

"Of course I want to hear. What happened?"

"Well, it's embarrassing. I blame it on the caffeine crash, actually..." Sam waited for him to continue. "I can't remember what all was said, but somehow I...I sort of broke down crying, no one knew why, including me, everything was thrown into chaos. I'm seriously starting to worry that I'm going to fuck up regionals for us."

"That's crazy, Blaine. You're the best singer out of all of us by far."

"That's why...I mean, you're being too nice. I'm not the best singer, I don't think. But if I were, then that would be why so much would ride on me, of all people, not fucking up."

"You won't fuck up regionals," Sam said softly.

"Thanks. I hope you're right."

"You won't fuck up regionals, because if you did, that would mean _I _fucked up regionals. And if I fucked up regionals, then I'd have to add the whole glee club to the list of people whose lives I ruined by cheating on Brittany."

"Would you stop it with that karma shit, Sam? Please?"

"Wrath of God."

"Oh, it's the wrath of God, now? Hey, that's much better." Blaine waited for Sam to respond, but when he didn't, he continued. "Jesus, Sam. I'm sorry if _my _emotional crisis is causing _your _conscience to feel bad."

"No, see. My conscience _should _feel bad. Because I caused your emotional crisis. And everyone else's."

"God damn it, Sam!" Blaine was yelling now. And shaking. He pulled over to the side of the road. "None of this is your fault! Shit just happens sometimes, okay? And the thing that's really pissing me off..."

"Besides me ruining your life?"

"Fuck you, Sam. The thing that pisses me off is that my life is falling apart, and on top of that I have to keep reassuring _you_ that it's not your fucking fault."

Blaine was crying now, uncontrollably. "I'm sorry," was all Sam could say. He wanted to cry too. It was all he could do not to cry, which he knew would be the absolute worst thing he could do right now.

"Can you just stop fucking apologizing and just...can you just drive please? I can't drive like this. We're already late."

They got out of the car to switch seats. Sam couldn't stand what he'd done to Blaine. Blaine, who he cared about more than anyone. When they passed each other in front of the car, Sam pulled him into a tight hug. He couldn't just let him keep crying like this.

"Sam..." came Blaine's muffled voice.

"Shh."

"Sam, we're already late."

"Isn't pissing your mom off kind of the point?"

"Yeah, I guess, but-"

"Shh." Sam rocked back and forth with Blaine until he stopped crying. He ignored the darkening sky, the wind...he didn't even feel cold really.

"Okay, Sam," Blaine finally said. "I'm okay now. We can go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Blaine wasn't crying anymore so there wasn't any need for Sam to drive now, but he did anyway. As soon as he got the car started he cranked the heat up to max. Okay, maybe he had been a little cold after all.

XOXOXO

Blaine's mother was pacing just inside the entrance to the steakhouse with a phone to her ear. She dropped it into her purse when Blaine walked in. "Blaine! I've been calling! What happened? Why didn't you pick up your phone?"

Blaine stiffened when she went in for a hug, but he didn't pull away. "Sorry. I don't totally have the new phone figured out yet." He totally _had_ figured out to set it to ignore calls from certain numbers, however.

Mrs. Anderson noticed Sam. "Oh. Hello."

"Mom, this is Sam Evans."

"I remember Sam. Middle-of-the-night meetings in emergency rooms tend to stick in my memory." She shook Sam's hand. "How are you doing, Sam? No ill after-effects, I hope?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." She held Blaine's elbow and took him aside. "I thought you understood I wanted us to have a family talk."

"But I thought you brought your friend?"

"Fine. I get it, Blaine. Jason is not your family."

"Damn right he's not."

His mother ignored this and turned back to Sam. "Sam, aren't you chilly? I might have a sweater or something in the car."

"Nah, I'm fine. I'm really warm-blooded, so this is, like, perfect weather for me."

"But you're covered in goose pimples."

"Oh, these? No, that's just a skin condition."

"Mom, he's kind of sensitive about it."

"Oh. Sorry. Well, let's go. Excuse me, miss?" she said to a waitress passing by. "Could we get another chair and place setting, please?"

The boyfriend stood as Mrs. Anderson and the boys approached the table. "You remember Blaine, of course, Jason." Jason extended his hand for a shake. Blaine gave him a quick wave. "And this, Jason Doyle, please meet Blaine's friend, Sam..."

"Evans," Blaine said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam." He held out his hand.

Sam shook it and said, "You too."

Everyone remained standing, awkwardly, until a waiter brought over another chair. Then they sat and looked at each other. Awkwardly.

"Your mother was pretty worried, Blaine," Jason said. "I hope you didn't have car trouble?"

"No."

Blaine and Sam held up their menus and studied them. "Order something expensive," Blaine whispered.

"I'm not that hungry," Sam whispered back.

"You don't have to eat it all."

"So, Sam," Mr. Doyle said when they put down their menus. "How long have you and Blaine been dating?"

Everyone was silent for a moment. "Oh, no," Mrs. Anderson said. "Blaine and Sam aren't dating."

"Oh. But I thought you said Blaine was-"

"Yes. But he's not dating Sam. Are you?" She looked at Blaine. "You never mentioned..."

"You never asked."

"Yeah, we are dating, actually," Sam said. He grabbed Blaine's hand. "It hasn't been long, though. I'm sure Blaine was going to mention it soon. Unless..." He looked at Blaine. "You're not ashamed of me, are you, Blainey?"

In reply, Blaine leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and whisper, "Thank you."

A waited came over to take their orders. Sam ordered the lobster. He was glad his mother couldn't see him. She had taught him _never _to order from the high end of the menu when someone else was paying.

"Let's see," Blaine said, consulting his menu. "I'll start with the shrimp rémoulade, then I'll have the T-bone and a side of...Sam, I can't decide between the grilled asparagus or the creamed spinach. How about if I get the asparagus and you get the spinach and we share?"

"Well, creamed spinach? I mean..."

"Okay. You get the asparagus and I'll get the spinach." He also asked the waiter what wine he'd recommend to go with the T-bone, but the waiter asked if he had any ID.

Mr. Doyle said, "Blaine, that's an inspired choice. I'll have the exact same thing." Mrs. Anderson ordered the salmon, and the waiter took their menus and left.

"So, Blaine..." his mother started. "Sam, there were some things we wanted to talk to Blaine about tonight. You don't mind, do you?"

Sam glanced at Blaine. Not picking up any signal either way, he said, "No, not all."

"So, Blaine, the Realtor has a couple houses for us to look at tomorrow. I told her we're only interested in houses built in the last five years. Old Victorians might be charming, but with all that flammable wood..."

"Is your house an old Victorian, Mr. Doyle?"

"Mine? No. I have a condo. Mostly concrete."

"So then?" he asked his mother. "Jason...Mr. Doyle has a concrete condo. It sounds like a very cozy little love nest. Why not just stay there?"

"Blaine, honey. It's a condo for one person, two at the most. There isn't even a bedroom for you."

"I'm not moving into a new house with you guys. Or a condo or a dwelling of any sort."

Jason...Mr. Doyle leaned toward Blaine and put on what Blaine could only assume was meant to be a fatherly expression. _If he calls me champ, so help me... _"Blaine, sport..." He caught the menace in the look Blaine shot him and started over. "Sorry. Just Blaine. Blaine, I know you don't know me yet, and I know this is all happening really fast and it's probably confusing as hell-"

"Mr. Doyle?"

"Yes, Blaine?"

"Would you please shut the fuck up?"

"Blaine Devon Anderson! You apologize this instant!"

"No, it's okay, Sharon. I overstepped." He stood up. "Sam. Walk with me to the bar."

Sam looked at Blaine, who nodded at him. He kissed Blaine's cheek again and whispered, "I'm not far if you need me." Blaine kissed him back, on the mouth. Sam and Mr. Doyle walked away.

"Blaine..."

"Mother..."

"You're being very childish. Do you realize that?"

"That's right. If you insult me enough, then I'll really want to live with you and your little boy-toy."

"It's not ideal, Blaine. I realize that. I wanted to introduce you two more gradually. But now...you can't just impinge on Mr. and Mrs. Hummel's hospitality forever."

"I know for a fact she doesn't mind. And it won't be forever. When dad finds a new place I'll move in with him."

"Blaine..."

"Mother..."

"Have you spoken to your father since Friday?"

Blaine had to think back. "No."

"He's not in Chicago on business. And he's not coming back to Lima."

XOXOXO

Sam was driving them home; Blaine was trying to balance all the containers of food. He'd demanded his and Sam's orders to go, popped his head into the bar to yell to Sam that they were leaving, and headed out to the car.

"So...it didn't go well?"

"I don't...I can't talk about it. Tell me what you and Mr. Douchebag talked about."

"He bought me a beer and gave me a safe sex speech."

Blaine laughed at that. And laughed and laughed. Way out of proportion to how funny it actually was. When he had finally gotten it out of his system he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I wish you really were my boyfriend."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Me too."

When they walked into the house, Carole seemed to be waiting for them. "How was..." she started. But one look at Blaine and she switched to, "Oh, Blaine, I'm sorry."

"Carole, do you remember when you said I could stay here as long as I needed to?"

"Sure."

"Well, what if that ended up being...until graduation?"

"I don't think that's the best idea, Blaine." Blaine was speechless. Carole continued, "I'm not going to just kick you out after you graduate. You'll need somewhere to live this summer, won't you?"

"Thank you, Carole. That means so much to me. I hope I can repay you somehow."

"If you and Sam just keep the lawn mowed-and the driveway shoveled, if the forecast is right about tonight-I'll be happy."

The boys sat at the kitchen table to eat their take-out. It wasn't that great now that it was cold. "Dude, I hope you're happy with how much we gouged Mr. Douchebag," Sam said. "Because I don't even like lobster."

After picking at their food and throwing most of it away, they went upstairs to do homework. They even got their books out and sat on the floor of Blaine's room. But they weren't going to do any homework, who were they kidding?

"Sam? Did you mean it when you said you wish I was your boyfriend?"

"Yeah." Sam was still staring at his history book.

"Well, then?"

"I have to clear things up with Brittany first. I just...I know you don't think everything happened because of the wrath of God, but...but what if it did? I can't _keep_ cheating on her. I have to end it with her first."

"So you didn't...you didn't clear things up with her after glee?"

Sam shook his head.

"Did you... I know I shouldn't ask you this, but. Did you..."

"Fuck her again?"

"Did you?"

"No. I didn't even find her to talk. I went to her house, but if she was there, she wasn't answering the door."

"Oh." Blaine flipped a page in his calc book. "So, I mean, will you end it with her? Like...I don't want to pressure you or anything, but like tomorrow?"

"She's going to be in Boston. I think her plane leaves first thing in the morning."

"Shit."

"It seems like a kind of...you know, not the nicest thing to do over the phone, but I will. I'll call her tomorrow."

"Thanks, Sam." He pretended to look at his textbook again. "Can I...can I sleep with you again tonight? Just sleep, like last night?"

"Last night was actually torture on me," Sam admitted. "Having you right there, not being able to do anything. I don't think I slept all night."

"Me neither. But it was better than not sleeping all night by myself."

"Okay. So here's what we'll do." Sam took Blaine's hands in his. "We'll sleep together, and we can even, like, cuddle, and maybe even kiss a little. Not on the mouth. Well, not with tongues. And not below the belt. No, better make that not below the collar bone. And if one of us needs to...excuse himself for a couple minutes...the other one will just wait and not ask where he went."

Blaine nodded. He would have agreed to any crazy rules Sam wanted to establish. He stood up and announced, "I'll put my pajamas on. No peeking while I change."

"Aw..." Sam said. "But no, you're right. I have to jump in the shower anyway."

"No," Blaine said, maybe a little too emphatically. "You don't have to. I mean...do you mind...not?"

"Seriously? Dude, are you saying you like my BO?"

"Well, see..." Blaine knew he was blushing. "The thing is, I wouldn't really call it an O. More like an F. A fragrance."

"Yeah?" Sam stood and removed his t-shirt. He wrapped Blaine in a hug so that his nose was next to his armpit. "Does this make you swoon? Do you need to excuse yourself already?"

"Not yet," Blaine said. "Hold me like this for a couple more minutes and I will." Sam held him like that for five minutes or so before Blaine pulled away. "You may have thought I was joking. But now I actually do have to excuse myself."

"Uh. Me too, actually."

There was only one bathroom, other than Carole's, and neither one of them would have dreamed of using hers for their purpose. Blaine went first. Sam tried not to listen at the door...well, no, actually he didn't even try. Blaine didn't make much noise, except a couple soft gasps at the end. He flushed, washed his hands, and blushed when he saw Sam standing outside the door.

Sam gave his shoulder a squeeze before he went in for his turn. When he got out, Blaine was in bed in those adorable pajamas. Even though he'd just taken care of himself, he knew it was going to be a long night with lots of trips to the bathroom.


	6. Wednesday: Burt

Sam needed a new phone. He couldn't just wait until after school to call Brittany from Carole's land line, and if he borrowed someone else's phone, the caller ID would confuse her. And he really wanted to get this over with.

He talked Blaine into driving out to the mall with him during their lunch period. Blaine wouldn't have needed any convincing at all, except for the fact that it meant they'd have to skip at least one class: the mall wasn't close enough to the school to get there, get in and out, and get back during their forty-five minute lunch "hour."

Blaine agreed to go, but he still seemed tense about it. Sam tried to calm him down on the drive over. "It's fine, Blaine. Everyone skips classes now and then."

"Not me. This will ruin my perfect attendance record. I really wanted that gold star."

"Seriously? Is that a real thing?" Blaine just chuckled. "Very funny, dude. You shouldn't take advantage of my boyish naïveté."

"Wait, you're the one corrupting me," Blaine objected. "Turning me into a class-skipping bad boy."

"You are so hot as a bad boy."

"Yeah?" Blaine looked away from the road for a second to raise his eyebrow suggestively at Sam. "Maybe we should blow off all our afternoon classes. I could take you home and do some very dirty things to you."

"I'd like that very much. Let's hope I can reach Brittany."

Sam called her as soon as he got the new phone, before they even stepped outside the phone place. He got her voicemail. "Brittany. It's Sam. I know you're busy but please call me the second you get this. I really need to talk to you." He texted pretty much the same message.

Blaine leaned his head on Sam's shoulder. "I should have known we wouldn't be so lucky that she'd just answer her damn phone."

"I hope it's just that she's in an interview or something. I hope she's not intentionally ignoring me."

"So..." Blaine sighed. "Back to school, I guess?"

"No, fuck that. You're still gonna be my bad boy, and you're still gonna do dirty stuff to me."

"Even if she doesn't—?"

"Don't say that. I'll call and text constantly until she gets back to me just so I'll stop bugging her." He grabbed Blaine's hand. "Come on. Let's get a bite in the food court."

Blaine wondered if Sam realized that they were now holding hands in public and that that meant Sam was sort of out. They hadn't really talked at all about Sam coming out. But Sam had to realize it was kind of a big deal. Didn't he? He was kind of acting like he didn't realize it was a big deal. It was better than if he wanted to stay in the closet, Blaine didn't think he could handle that. But this could be a problem too. Like, Blaine was pretty good at ignoring people's stares and under-the-breath comments. Even a lot of the over-the-breath comments. But he wasn't literally oblivious to them; he didn't literally not notice that people were staring right now. Sam seemed like he might literally not notice.

"Sam...Do you realize what you're doing?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm walking to the food court with my soon-to-be boyfriend." He gave Blaine's hand an extra squeeze.

"You realize that, uh..." The way Sam looked at him while he tried to think of how to say it—it was so open, somehow, so trusting. Sam really was boyishly naïve; it was one of the things Blaine loved about him. He didn't want to disillusion him. "You realize that I want to scratch that 'soon-to-be' part as soon as possible, right?"

Sam smiled. "I was just about to try calling again." He called and then texted while they walked to the food court, then again while they stood in line at the food court, then a few more times while they ate their lunch in the food court. They were drinking their third refills of Diet Coke that they didn't even want when she _finally_ texted back.

Brittany's text read: "sam i told u 2 go be w kitty u luv her u need 2 get over me."

"Why does she think I like Kitty?"

"Well, it's Brittany, so..." Blaine stopped himself. Insulting Sam's ex (ex!) was not the way to go. "But who cares? She told you to get over her. That means you're broken up."

"But..."

"But what, Sammy?"

"She didn't tell me to go be with you. She told me to go be with Kitty."

"So? You're not going to start dating Kitty just because Brittany told you to?"

"Of course not. I don't even like Kitty. But I mean...if she knew who I really like, maybe she wouldn't have told me to go to you."

"So what? She told you to get over her. That means she can't tell you who to be with."

"Yeah, but...let me just try calling her back. If I can actually talk to her, then we can get everything straightened out."

Blaine slumped down in his seat. "Fine. Call her if it'll make you happy."

"Brittany, it's Sam. Call me back. I got your text but I still need to talk to you."

"Brittany. Sam again. I really need to talk to you. You don't understand. I don't like Kitty."

"Brittany, about my last message. I'm not trying to talk you into taking me back or anything. I just need to clear stuff up. There is someone else I like but it's not Kitty. Call me!"

"Come on," Blaine said, standing up. "We can still get back in time for our last class and then glee."

They didn't speak while Blaine drove them back toward the school. Sam was still calling Brittany non-stop, but he'd stopped leaving voicemails. They were a few blocks away from the school when Sam reached over for the wheel and turned the car. It slid on some icy slush and the side of one of the wheels scraped against the curb.

"Jesus Christ, Sam! What the fuck are you doing?"

"Don't drive back to school. I want you to take me home and have your way with me."

XOXOXO

Sam unzipped his hoodie and leaned back against the wall. Waiting for Blaine to take him. Blaine obligingly pressed against him, ran his hand through Sam's hair, kissed his neck.

He took a step back. "I don't want to have my way with you, Sam."

Wait, was this a joke or something? Was Blaine mad at him? Had he lost interest? He grabbed Blaine's hands before he could walk away completely. "Blaine...What...? You don't want me anymore?"

"Sammy! Of course I want you! I could never not want you. I just was about to say that...I've been selfish and you've been so generous. This time I want you to have your way with me."

"Oh! But..." Sam wasn't sure why, but the idea made him a little uncomfortable. Like, he knew he wanted Blaine and wanted to be with him and wanted to be _with _him. And he knew that everything Blaine did to him felt so fucking good and just made him want more. But somehow, if it could be mostly about Blaine's pleasure, that didn't feel as weird.

"What's wrong, Sammy?"

"No, it's just..." He glanced at his hands. "I _like_ when you do what you want with me."

Blaine pressed himself against Sam again, stroked his cheek. "But isn't there anything you'd like to do to me?" he whispered in his ear.

"Coupla things," Sam admitted, untucking Blaine's shirt. He lifted Blaine's chin and lowered his for a kiss. He ran his fingers in Blaine's hair...or tried to. Fucking gel, it was like a forcefield.

He scooped Blaine up, bride-over-the-threshold style. Blaine nibbled on Sam's neck as he was carried up the stairs. Sam set him down in the bathroom. "Are you gonna fuck me in the shower, Sammy?"

"No." Sam pulled Blaine's cardigan and shirt off over his head without bothering to unbutton either one. How could a guy's chest be so beautiful?

"No?" Blaine put his hand on Sam's head, down by his chest.

Sam dropped to his knees and slid Blaine's pants and underwear off. "No." Jesus, Blaine's cock was gorgeous too. When did this happen? When did he gain the ability to find a cock gorgeous? Probably when he saw Blaine's. He stroked it reverently with just his fingertips. God, look how it responded to even the lightest touch. Sam extended his tongue and ran just the tip of it from the balls to the head.

He stood and removed his own clothes. Blaine seemed to appreciate his cock as much as he appreciated Blaine's. He opened the shower curtain and turned on the water while Blaine stepped out of the rest of his clothes. "Get in."

"I thought you weren't going to fuck me in here," Blaine said, stepping under the warm water.

Sam stepped in after him and closed the shower curtain. "I'm not. I'm going to wash the God damn gel out of your hair."

"Wow, Sam. That's, uh...really hot?"

"Shut up. You'll thank me for it later."

Sam squirted a glob of shampoo in his hand and tried to work into Blaine's hair. "Jesus Christ, Blaine. What is this stuff?" It wasn't coming loose at all.

"It's some pretty hard core shit," Blaine admitted. "I have to use an industrial-strength solvent to get it out."

"Yeah?" Sam looked around. "Where—?"

"I'm joking. You just have to work at it for a while."

Sam squirted more shampoo directly onto Blaine's head and started massaging more vigorously.

"Mmm...Did I ever tell you how much I love your hands and your fingers, Sammy? Sorry, that probably sounds weird. You're really good at this, though. I bet you could make a fortune in tips as a shampoo boy."

"I dunno. Would I have to give happy endings?"

"Only to me." Blaine reached around to grab Sam's ass and pull him in closer. Their dicks rubbed against each other.

Sam moaned. "Don't distract me. This is serious business." He kept working his fingers in Blaine's hair. Blaine sucked on Sam's neck and kneaded his ass. His fingers worked their way into the crack. "Okay. If you can't keep your hands to yourself..." He turned Blaine around and placed his hands against the wall.

The only problem with this solution was that Blaine was now leaning forward, and to reach his hair, Sam had to lean forward too, more or less on top of Blaine. So that his dick lined up more or less perfectly with Blaine's crack. Yeah, that was also kind of distracting. Especially when Blaine started rubbing his ass against Sam. "God damn you, Blaine," Sam muttered as he kept working at the hair. Luckily it was finally starting to feel clean. Blaine kept moving and repositioning himself so that Sam's cock was closer and closer to penetrating him—even though they didn't have any condom or lubes in the bathroom, and even though Sam had been pretty clear, he thought, that he was not going to fuck Blaine in the shower.

"All right," Sam said. "If this is how you're going to be..." he rinsed the last of the shampoo out of Blaine's hair and turned off the water. "You don't get any conditioner."

Blaine felt his hair. "Sam, my hair needs conditioner. It'll be totally out of control. I'm sorry. I'll be good."

Sam shrugged and stepped out of the shower. "Maybe next time you'll remember this." He reached for a towel to dry himself off. In the mirror, he saw Blaine reach for the conditioner. He slung the towel over one shoulder and picked up Blaine and slung him over the other.

"Sam! Come on, you're not really serious?"

Sam carried him into his room—Kurt's room—and sat him down on the bed. "I'm totally serious." He took the towel and dried Blaine's hair, messing it up as much as possible. Then he gently pushed Blaine onto his back and lay on top of him. "Your eyes are so beautiful."

"Sam, I..."

Sam brushed the wet hair off Blaine's forehead. "What, baby?"

"I want you to kiss me."

So Sam kissed him. He kissed his lips, he kissed his jawbone, he kissed his neck. Blaine's chest. He licked it, lightly first, then more fervently and with a bit of teeth. Then the nipples. He licked one while squeezing the other between his fingers. Blaine gasped and tried to shift his pelvis. Tried to, but it was pretty well pinned down by Sam's. "Do you like that?" Sam asked. Blaine's low moan was his only response.

Sam scooted farther down the bed, so his face was next to Blaine's crotch. He really, really just couldn't get over how much he loved it. He wanted it in his ass; he ached to feel it in his ass. But first he wanted it in his mouth. "Blainey? I'm gonna suck your dick now, okay?"

"Uh huh."

"But don't come yet. Some day I want you to come in my mouth. But today I want you to come in my ass. Okay?"

"Uh huh."

But Sam didn't suck it, not right away. He stroked it first, enjoying the feel of it in his hand. And he found that if he squeezed it, he could actually feel it throb. Blaine's giant, throbbing cock.

"Sam? Sam, I thought you were gonna..."

"Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I don't feel like sucking it anymore."

"Sam!" Blaine whimpered.

"Maybe if I think you really, really want me to..."

"I really, really want you to, Sammy. Please. Please wrap your beautiful lips around my cock. Please?"

"Well, gosh, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?" He was still maddeningly slow about it. He kissed it first—just lips, no tongue. Then he licked—slowly—just tongue, no lips. Watching Blaine squirm, watching him writhe and try to twist himself into a position that would afford him more contact—it was incredibly hot. No one else had ever wanted him this bad. He waited until he thought Blaine had suffered enough, and then he waited a minute more. Then, finally, he wrapped his lips around Blaine's beautiful cock. Just around the tip at first, then slowly—but not _too_ slowly anymore—taking in more and more of it until no more would fit. Then he held Blaine's hips to the bed while he sucked as hard as he could.

The sounds that Blaine made—the moaning, the whining, the whimpering—and the way his hips so obviously wanted, needed to thrust but couldn't...it was driving Sam crazy. He found himself grinding against the mattress. He thought he might have to stop before Blaine had to. But Blaine did need to stop. He couldn't get the words out; he could only reach down and push Sam's head away.

Sam kissed his inner thigh while Blaine caught his breath. When he could speak again, Blaine said, "I believe you mentioned something about wanting to get fucked?" Sam reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. "The supplies are in Finn's room," Blaine reminded him.

Shit. What time was it anyway? Carole wouldn't be home yet, would she? Sam stood behind the door and opened it. "Carole?" he yelled. No response. He tried once again, this time with his head outside the door. "Coast is clear," he announced to Blaine. "I'll be right back."

When he returned with the lube and condoms, Blaine wasn't waiting for him in the bed. He was waiting just inside the door. He pushed Sam against the wall and kissed him, his hands wandering down toward his dick. Sam moaned when they reached their target. Blaine's hands were awesome, but his mouth—which soon joined them down there—was even awesomer. "Blaine, Jesus, Blaine." He ran his hands into Blaine's hair, which was mostly dry now and pretty tangled. "Jesus, Blaine, don't stop." He had forgotten about wanting to get fucked.

Blaine, however, had not forgotten. He released the dick from his mouth and turned Sam around so he was facing the wall. "Spread your legs apart," he told him. Sam did. "You ever have an ass hickey before?" Blaine asked him. Sam shook his head, and Blaine proceeded to give him one, while running one hand up and down his inner thigh and fingering his hole with the other. Sam groaned and handed him the lube, which made the fingering much better. "You're getting a lot better at relaxing."

"Well, I don't wanna be bad at this. I want you to keep wanting to fuck me."

"You're so fucking adorable."

"Uh, thanks. I...oh God! How's my ass hickey coming?"

Blaine stopped to look at it. "It should serve its purpose."

"What...?"

"To mark your ass as taken." Blaine smacked him on the hickey cheek. "You're ready to get fucked. Go lay down. You wanna be on your back or on your stomach?"

"Uh, doggy style? Do they call it that when it's two guys?"

"I don't know. Let's take a minute to look it up in my English-to-gay dictionary."

Sam went to the bed and got on his hands and knees. "Shut up and fuck me." Blaine positioned himself on his knees behind Sam. He squirted some more lube on Sam, took his time rubbing it in. Sam pushed himself against Blaine's fingers. "Blainey. You said I was ready."

"Yeah. But, you know, I've been thinking." He rested his dick just outside Sam's entrance. When Sam rubbed against it he pulled it away. "You know. Maybe you don't want it enough."

"Blaine! Are you doing this because I made you beg to get your cock sucked?"

"Payback, Sammy."

"Come on, Blaine. This isn't funny."

"Actually, it kind of is. From my perspective. And that doesn't sound like begging."

"Come on, Blainey. Okay, please. _Please_. Please fuck me. Please, please, I need to feel your cock in me. Ple—ooh! Oooh..." Sam temporarily lost the ability to speak. Noises came out of his mouth, but they were nonsensical. And he couldn't really think either. He could just feel. And he felt so good, so good, so—he couldn't contain himself anymore, he reached for his cock, felt a cry shoot out of his throat with almost as much force as the come shot out of his dick. His whole body convulsed with pleasure.

He became aware that Blaine was coming too, that he was slamming into him and yelling, "Sam! Oh, God, Sam! Oh Gooood!"

Sam collapsed on the bed as soon as Blaine pulled out of him. "C'mere," he beckoned sleepily. Blaine lay next to him. Sam snuggled up to him, kissed him, and closed his eyes happily.

Blaine watched him drift off to sleep almost immediately. He was so cute when he slept, and it was so adorable that he seemed physically incapable of staying awake after sex. And actually, Blaine felt a little spent himself. Nothing seemed better than staying in bed, curled up with his Sammy.

XOXOXO

Carole was so happy to see Burt again, but so nervous. Tomorrow they'd be getting his latest test results. The cancer treatment hadn't been easy on him—it hadn't been easy on either of them, not being able to be together for most of the time. At least they'd hear the results together. And Kurt was flying in later tonight—she knew Burt would be glad to see him too.

Burt didn't want to talk about the test or the cancer or anything health-related on the drive from the airport. He told her some of the D.C. gossip—none of the serious stuff, which neither of them felt like concentrating on anyway. And he wanted to hear what was going on at home, mostly about the fire and what it was like having Sam and Blaine both living in the house.

"Well, it's been really hard on Blaine, obviously. Not only losing his house, but pretty much his whole family." She told him as briefly as possible about Blaine's mother and her lover in Lima, Blaine's father and his lover in Chicago. "Sam's been a really good friend to him," she added. Should she mention...? No, she hadn't heard them since Saturday night. It was probably just some sort of post-traumatic thing. She didn't want Burt to get worked up over nothing.

"How long did you tell him he can stay?"

"As long as he needs."

"Carole..."

"What am I supposed to do? Make him go live with his mother and that horrible man who he didn't even know existed?"

"No. You're right. I knew when I married you that you had too big a heart."

"I have no such thing."

"Well, and Blaine is like family, after all. Do you think it'll be weird, having him staying here while Kurt's home?"

"Oh...I really hope not." _It could get so much weirder than you know._

They pulled into the driveway. "Is that Blaine's car?" Burt asked. Sam's was much older and anyway, he saw where Sam's was parked on the street.

"Yeah. He's usually not back from glee practice this early."

"Too bad," Burt said. "I hoped we'd have the house to ourselves for a while." He walked around to the driver's side and, when Carole got out, leaned her against the car for a long kiss.

Carole shook her head. "We'll always have teenagers living with us. Don't you remember that part from our wedding vows?"

Burt grabbed his overnight bag from the backseat and walked into the house. "Blaine?" he called. "Sam?" Nothing. "Carole, I don't think they're here after all."

"Well, then why would both cars be here? You know kids today. It's not like they walk anywhere."

"I'll see if they're upstairs." Burt ran up the steps.

Carole had hung up her coat before it dawned on her: "Don't open the bedroom doors!" she yelled up.

It was too late. She heard a bellowing "What the hell!?" that could only be Burt's, a shriek that could only be Blaine's, and an "Oh fuck, oh fuck" that, by process of elimination, could only be Sam's.

XOXOXO

Tina rang the doorbell and waited outside. She was surprised when Kurt's father answered it. "Oh, hi, Mr. Hummel. I didn't realize you were back in town."

He looked really mad or really scared or something. Also really impatient. "What can I do for you, Tina?"

"I came over to see Blaine. And Sam. They weren't in glee so I wanted to see if they're okay."

"Blaine and Sam are not accepting visitors. They are grounded." He shut the door and left Tina just standing there.

XOXOXO

Blaine made a run for the bathroom and retrieved his and Sam's clothes from the floor. They put them on and went downstairs to see if Mr. Hummel was going to throw them out or...honestly they didn't know what he might do.

Sam's phone, in his jeans pocket, was beeping at him. He looked at his missed calls and told Blaine, "Well, at least Brittany finally called me back."

They found Ms. Hudson-Hummel sitting at the kitchen table. They sat down across from her, but they couldn't bring themselves to look her in the eyes—nor she in theirs. Mr. Hummel stormed in from the living room. "That was Tina! She was worried about you because you missed glee club!"

"Oh," Blaine said quietly. "What did you...?"

"What did I tell her? What do you think I should have told her?"

"Mr. Hummel—" Blaine started.

"Blaine, you're an adult. Legally. I can't legally tell you what to do. Sam, you're a minor. You're a minor under my care. Carole's and my care. How long has this been going on, you two guys...in the house with my wife?"

No one answered.

"You can see why this is a little unsettling for me."

"Yes, sir."

"And in my son's bed! My son, who is your ex-boyfriend, Blaine. His first boyfriend. Doesn't that seem just a little...wrong?"

_Well, don't worry. We did it in Finn's bed too_. Sam was _so _happy he didn't say that out loud.

"What if Kurt had gotten home before I did? What if he'd been the one to find you two...?"

Sam and Blaine looked at Carole. "Wait, Kurt's coming home too?" Sam asked.

"Mr. Hummel, we didn't know that you or Kurt were going to be here today."

"Oh," Carole said. "I mentioned it. A few times."

Sam and Blaine looked at each other. They'd been pretty oblivious to everything but themselves, apparently. "What time do you expect Kurt?" Blaine asked.

Carole glanced at the clock. "About two hours."

"I'd suggest you get his room straightened up," Burt said.

XOXOXO

Kurt's flight got in only about a half hour before Mercedes's. Instead of asking Carole to drive out to the airport again, he waited around and caught a ride with Mercedes and her mom. In the car, he tried to be interested in hearing about Mercedes's album. It was great news, it was really exciting. He just had trouble thinking about anything other than his dad. Same when she talked about her and Mike helping glee prepare for sectionals—he would have been genuinely interested if not preoccupied with something way more important.

Mercedes's mom asked him about his father's health, but she didn't press him when he answered in monosyllables. She did say she'd pray for him. Kurt didn't bother telling her not to. He didn't ask her, if there were a god or gods, why could he or she or it or they be bothered to help one guy with cancer when they couldn't be bothered to stop wars and famines? Not to mention kids killing themselves because the Bible told them that who they were was wrong. He said "Thank you," because Mrs. Jones was just trying to be nice.

Mercedes asked if it was true what she'd heard about Blaine: that his house had burned down and now he was living at Kurt's. It was true, Kurt said. Sam had been at Blaine's too when it happened. They were cooking or something.

Actually it was a little weird that he hadn't heard more about it. He'd talked to Blaine once since it happened, when Kurt had called him. But Blaine hadn't called _him _at all. Usually with something like this, Blaine would want to talk to him, even though they weren't together anymore. He'd have to remember to ask Blaine about that—after he found out about his dad's results.

When they got to Kurt's house, Mercedes asked if she could come in for a minute and say hi to everyone. "Just for a minute, Cedes. Your dad really wants to see you."

Kurt and Mercedes walked into an eerily quiet house. Kurt and Carole were sitting on the couch next to each other reading newspapers. Sam and Blaine were sitting in opposite corners of the living room doing homework. Everyone looked very surprised to see them at first. Sam and Blaine didn't just look surprised; they looked frightened.

"Uh, hi, everyone."

"Kurt!" Burt stood and walked over to give him a big hug. He actually picked him up off the ground a little.

Carole stood and waited for Kurt to come to her, then she hugged him too. "So good to see you, Kurt. How was your flight? Mercedes! Great to see you too."

Sam and Blaine had yet to move or speak. Mercedes waved at them, almost shyly. "Hi, Blaine. Hi, Sam."

Blaine stood and walked over to hug Mercedes. His hair looked atrocious. "We weren't expecting to see you! How have you been?" He gave Kurt a pat on the shoulder. "Kurt, great to see you."

"Well." Mercedes looked around and was overwhelmed by the awkward. "My mom's waiting in the car. Nice to see everyone. Good luck, Mr. Hummel."

"Thanks, Mercedes. Be sure to thank your mother for us for giving Kurt a lift."

Mercedes kissed Kurt on the cheek. "Bye." Under her breath she added, "When you find out what the hell is going on here, call me" before walking out.

"So..." Kurt looked around the room. "Do I want to know, or should I wait until tomorrow to ask?"

"Um. You might want to wait until tomorrow," Carole said.

"Fine. Well, I've had a long day and I'm tired. I guess I'll go to bed."

"Hold up," Sam said. He ran to the basement stairs and said, "Give me five minutes to get your bed made. Your sheets are in the dryer."

Kurt looked around at everyone again. He seemed very much on the verge of a major freakout. "I just happened to mention how much you like warm sheets," Blaine told him.


	7. Thursday: Results

Burt sat down next to his wife at the kitchen table and poured himself a cup of coffee. Carole gave him a kiss on the cheek and went back to looking at Kurt perplexedly. "What's he doing?" Burt asked her.

"I hear you, dad," Kurt said, not turning around from the sink. "I'm washing the silverware. It was spotty from the dishwasher; you know you really need to do this by hand. And especially today, I want everything bright and shiny."

"You weren't planning on decorating the house with forks and spoons, were you? Cause if not, if they're just going to sit in a drawer-"

"Don't be silly, dad. That's not the point."

"He's been up cleaning since four-thirty," Carole whispered. "If I prided myself on my housewifely skills I'd be offended."

"So Kurt," Burt said. "What are your plans for this morning?" The appointment with the doctor wasn't until one.

"Staying here with you. Doing a little brightening around the house."

"I think you should go see your friends in glee."

XOXOXO

So, Kurt was going to glee practice with them. Of course he was. Why wouldn't he? And Mercedes and Mike Chang were apparently going to be there too. Yay, reunion.

Kurt's dad threw them all out of the house way earlier than they had to leave. Probably because Kurt was driving him insane. He was certainly driving Sam insane. Okay, possibly for slightly different reasons. Burt shoved some money in Kurt's hand and told them to go have breakfast somewhere on him. And not to let the door hit them on the ass. He didn't actually have to say that last part.

The three boys walked toward Blaine's car. "So, the diner over by-" Sam started to suggest.

"I'm way more tired than hungry," Kurt interrupted.

"Me too," Blaine said. "Let's just go to the Lima Bean."

Of course they were tired. Sam knew they'd been together last night. He knew because when he'd come upstairs from the basement, where he was sleeping on the hideaway, to use the bathroom, Kurt's bedroom door was open and he could clearly see that Kurt wasn't in there.

"Lima Bean sounds perfect," Kurt said.

Blaine got in the driver's seat and Kurt took shotgun. Just like that. Just like, obviously I get shotgun, because Blaine is mine. Because, Sam, you're an afterthought at best. It wouldn't have been so bad if Blaine had stood up for him in some tiny way. Or like even just acknowledged him. But no, he just got in the car, like, obviously Kurt is going to sit next to me.

"You guys go ahead," Sam told them-before they got a chance to just drive off without even noticing he wasn't in the car. "I'm not really hungry or thirsty."

"Okay," Blaine said. "See you at glee." And he fucking drove off with his fucking so-called ex who he was apparently still fucking in love with.

XOXOXO

Brittany was still in bed with her temporary MIT roommate when she heard Sam's ring tone. "Sorry," she said, reaching over Ashley for her phone. "It's my ex. He's having a hard time with our breakup."

Ashley got out of bed and threw on some yoga pants and a t-shirt. "I'll give you some privacy," she said, and she walked out to the lounge.

"Brittany?" Sam couldn't believe he'd actually gotten through to her, finally. He hadn't really thought about what he'd say, in fact. "So, uh, how's MIT? Any hot girls go down on you yet?"

"Just one. She's not as good at it as you are. Kitty's a very lucky girl."

"See, that's the thing I've been trying to tell you, Britt. I'm not in love with Kitty. I barely even like her as a person. I'm in love with..." He couldn't continue; he was suddenly overcome with crying.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's okay. Don't cry. You're so sweet and so hot. I'm sure whoever it is loves you back."

"He doesn't," Sam choked out. "I thought he did but he's still in love with Kurt."

"I knew it was Blaine Warbler," Brittany said. "He was my next guess after Kitty. You always fall for the Cheerios."

This comment was so out of nowhere that Sam actually stopped crying to think about it. "What about Mercedes?"

"She was a Cheerio. It was only for like a week and it was before you came to McKinley, but once the Cheerios blood is in you there's no cure."

"Oh. Well, anyway. I just wanted you to know before I made it official with Blaine. But now..." He was crying again.

"Sammy. It's okay, Sammy, it's gonna be okay. Do you know what you need?"

Sam sniffled. "What?"

"No, I'm asking you. If you know what you need I'll try to get it for you. I can't stand for my Sammy to be sad, even if you're not _my _Sammy anymore."

"You're sweet, Britt."

"I just realized what you need."

"What?"

"You need Blaine."

XOXOXO

Sam was the last glee clubber to arrive for rehearsal. After he got off the phone with Brittany, he had decided to run to school instead of driving, so he was all sweaty and red-faced. Also he had slipped on an icy spot and fallen into a puddle of icy slush water, so his jeans were wet and freezing. It was shaping up to be a lovely day.

Oh, and look. Blaine had saved a seat for him. How thoughtful that Blaine remembered he existed. Mr. Schuester was writing something on the whiteboard when Sam tried to unobtrusively make his way to the chair. "Nice of you to join us-" Mr. Schue turned around and saw him, drenched with sweat and dirty puddle water, cheeks flushed, hair stuck to his forehead. "Sam, what in the world happened?"

"Does it have anything to do with why you and Blaine are grounded?" Tina asked. Everyone looked at Tina, then at Sam and Blaine. Sam wasn't the only one anymore whose cheeks were red.

"Tina, what are you..." Blaine said quietly.

"Sorry, Blaine," she said, quietly but not really. "I was worried about you missing glee yesterday...you and Sam...so I went over to check on you. Kurt's dad told me you were grounded."

"I knew something was going on," Mercedes said. "Didn't I tell you, Kurt?"

"Oh, that," Blaine said. He tried to chuckle. "Yeah. We were grounded from glee. That's why we weren't here. It's really...not a very interesting story. We should, uh, get on with practice."

The look Kurt was giving him-Blaine thought his head might actually explode. He could almost see the steam coming out his ears, his nose, his eye sockets-not his mouth, though; his lips were much too tightly pursed for that. All that pressure, about to burst. It made the quiet, controlled voice Kurt spoke in all the spookier. "My father has never grounded _me_. What on earth would he ground you and Sam for?"

Blaine whispered to him, "Can we talk about this later?"

"No, we cannot _fucking_ talk about this _later_!" Kurt screamed. He looked around. "I apologize. The cursing was uncalled for."

Blaine took Kurt's hand. "Can we at least go somewhere private to talk?" Sam turned away in disgust.

Kurt very deliberately removed his hand from Blaine's and walked to the front of the room with all the dignity he could muster. "I came home to hear the results of my father's test results. To tell us if the cancer is still growing. I get home and everyone's acting like they just got probed by aliens. Last night I turn to you for some comfort and you totally blow me off." Sam turned to look at Blaine. Really, they didn't...? "Then this morning I try to make myself useful and get thrown out of the house for my trouble. And now you and Sam are acting more and more bizarre and refusing to tell me what's going on. Well. I am not moving from this spot until someone tells me _everything_."

"Guys," Mr. Schuester said. "I think we should let Kurt and Blaine talk privately." He walked to the door and held it open. No one moved. "Guys!"

"Come on," Marley said, standing. "Let's go." Joe stood up too, and then Mike. The three of them and Mr. Schuester were the only ones to leave.

"Well, see, it's like this," Blaine said. He stood up and started pacing. "Your father was a little...surprised-"

"Maybe you should back up, dude," Sam suggested.

"Right. Okay. Well, Sam wanted to bake a cake-"

"Maybe not that far," Sam interjected.

Blaine spun around and gave Sam an exasperated look. "Would you like to do this?"

"Sure." Sam got up and walked over to Kurt. "So...Blaine and I are dating."

Tina shrieked. Sugar clapped. Unique leaned forward to Jake and said, "You owe Unique ten dollars, baby." Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple fives, which Unique snatched dramatically.

Kurt stood perfectly still. Perfectly still except for his head, which was sort of...vibrating. He stared at Sam, who had managed to maintain eye contact with him. "I don't understand," Kurt said.

"You know. Dating. Like, boyfriend and boyfriend." Kurt's expression was still uncomprehending. "We wanted to tell you first before we told anyone else," Sam added. They actually hadn't talked about telling Kurt or anyone. But if they had, they probably would have decided to tell Kurt first. Well, except Brittany. And, you know, pretty much all the parents involved, though mostly they had discovered the relationship independently.

Kurt turned to Blaine. "You're telling me that _he_...," he pointed at Sam, "...is your new boyfriend."

Blaine nodded.

"Sam 'Look at me, I'm the football quarterback' Evans. Sam 'I've never met a girl I didn't want to make out with' Evans. Sam 'I take my clothes off so old ladies will give me their money' Evans."

"That's not fair, Kurt, and you know it," Blaine said.

"Lots of old men paid to see me take my clothes off too."

"Not helping," Blaine whispered to Sam.

"Okay. Fine," Kurt said. "Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that you two are dating. That doesn't actually explain...anything. My dad wouldn't ground you for dating, he's not like that. And neither is Carole."

"He didn't actually ground us," Sam said. "He didn't, did he, Blaine?"

"No," Blaine said. "He must have just said that to Tina because he was upset."

"And he was upset because...?"

"He, uh. Sort of caught us," Sam said.

"Caught you..." Kurt gasped. "...in the _act_?"

Mercedes said, "Oh _hell _no," to no one in particular

"No! No, not _in_ the act," Blaine said, glancing nervously at the rapt audience. "More like..._after_ the act."

"We sort of fell asleep," Sam added.

There were several minutes of complete silence while Kurt processed this information. "Tell me the truth," Kurt said finally, as he looked at each of them imploringly. "Please, _please_ tell me this did not happen in my bed."

"Um, okay," Sam said. "But which do you want? The truth, or for us to tell you it wasn't in your bed?"

XOXOXO

Carole froze and wrapped her unbuttoned shirt around herself. "Did the front door just open?" she asked Burt.

Burt lifted his head from her neck to listen. "If it's those kids skipping school again to..."

"Dad?"

"Oh. It's Kurt." He nudged Carole's shirt back off her shoulders.

"He sounds hysterical," Carole said.

"He can wait." Burt reached around to unhook his wife's bra. "We should probably keep it down, though." He let the bra drop.

"Lock the bedroom door," Carole said. "I don't think him walking in on us would help alleviate the hysteria."

XOXOXO

Sam really wanted to get out of the school at lunch, go somewhere with Blaine and talk. But Blaine didn't have his car; Kurt had taken the keys and stormed off. There wasn't really anywhere within walking distance, especially with Sam in his gym shorts, the only thing he'd been able to change into to get out of his cold, wet jeans.

So he was sitting in the cafeteria with Mercedes and Mike and Tina and Artie, who were grilling him relentlessly. Now he really wished he had just grabbed Blaine and gone _somewhere _with him, anywhere away from here, bare legs be damned. But that was the other problem: he didn't even know where Blaine was.

He resigned himself to his interrogation. Yes, they were practicing safe sex. No, it hadn't been going on that long. Yes, of course, they had been planning to tell everyone in glee. No, Sam hadn't been cheating on Brittany. (Telling this lie gave him a pang, but it wasn't really anyone else's business.) Yes, Brittany knew about the two of them. No, this wasn't why he and Blaine had been acting so weird lately. Wait, everyone thought they'd been acting weird lately? Well, Mercedes and Mike hadn't been around, but Tina and Artie said emphatically that, yes, everyone thought they had been acting _very _weird lately. It was the topic of a lengthy discussion when they failed to show up for practice yesterday. Okay, Sam conceded, yes, it was why they had been acting weird lately.

Thank God, there was Blaine. Sam scooted over to make room for him to sit. Blaine was immediately peppered with pretty much the same questions, but before he answered, he said to Sam, "I just got off the phone with my mother. The school called to report my 'unexcused absence' yesterday. Do they have your parents' number, or Carole and Burt's?"

"Shit," Sam said. Then again, maybe he'd rather deal with his mom than with these guys. He excused himself and walked outside. Yeah, it was pretty cold out without long pants or a jacket. He checked his phone and sure enough there was a voicemail from his mother.

"Hi, mom. I just got your message. Sorry to call you at work."

"No, Sam, that's great. Hold on a second." He heard her tell someone she was going to take her lunch break now. "Give me a minute and I'll call you back from my cell."

This could be a bad sign. It could mean she wanted to yell at him and didn't want her coworkers to hear. Well, not _yell_. She never really _yelled_. Or it could mean she wanted to have a heart-to-heart. Or it could just mean that she wanted the "long distance" call to be on her phone bill, not his. She didn't totally get that both their phones were on the same bill. Or that long distance didn't cost any extra. She was amusingly but endearingly clueless in some ways.

"Hi, honey. How's school?" It didn't sound like she was too mad.

Still, he was a little cautious. "Good..."

"Do you want to tell me about skipping school yesterday?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I skipped school yesterday. Well, only the afternoon actually."

"Uh huh?"

"So...I mean, you know how it is. Sorry."

"Sam. I'm not going to tell you I never skipped a class in high school."

"Really?" He kind of couldn't picture his mother ditching class.

"I'm actually more concerned that I haven't heard from you since my visit. And about how you sound now."

"How do I sound now?"

Mary sighed. "Like you need your mom."

Okay, Sam was not going to cry again. It felt like all he'd done for the last week was cry. And at school? No. "No, I'm good. I mean, not that I don't miss you..." Damn it, his voice was cracking.

"I've been thinking about that talk we had. After church? Remember?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to be able to be honest with me. I don't want you to have to hide things from me because you think I'll disapprove."

"Really?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I'm not promising I _won't_ disapprove. I can promise I'll never disapprove of _you_, but I can't promise I'll never disapprove of anything you_ do._ But whatever you do, you can be honest with me about it. Does that make sense?"

"I guess so." He didn't feel as hopeful anymore.

"So...is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"I don't think so. Well. I'm not sleeping with Brittany anymore. We broke up."

"Sam..."

"Mom, I have to go." He spotted Blaine, who had come outside looking for him. "I have to get to class."

"Okay, honey. Call me later. I love you."

"I love you too, mom."

XOXOXO

Burt, fully dressed again, knocked on Kurt's bedroom door.

"Dad, where have you been?"

Burt looked around the room. The sheets and blankets were in a pile in the middle of the floor. All the surfaces-the dresser, the desk, the bedside table-had been cleared off. Everything that had been on them was thrown haphazardly in a cardboard box, and the wood had been scrubbed clean. Kurt was standing on a chair trying to reach the ceiling light to dust it.

"How are doing, Kurt?"

"I need your help, actually." Kurt lowered himself off the chair and walked to the bed. "I tried to flip this mattress, but I can't do it by myself."

"Kurt..." He really wanted to help Kurt stop freaking out. On the other hand, the mattress thing wasn't totally unreasonable. If he were Kurt and he knew what he gathered Kurt knew now, he'd want to sleep on the other side of the mattress too. "Okay, you grab that side, and I'll grab over here..."

"Thanks, Dad. I'm just going to take these sheets to the basement and wash them with a couple gallons of bleach. Unless...I don't suppose we could burn them, could we?"

"No. But I'll tell you what." Burt put his arm around his son's shoulder. "We've got plenty of time before we meet with the doctor. Let's go to the mall and pick out some new sheets. Any...any thread count you want." He wasn't entirely sure what thread count was, but he'd heard the term; he was pretty sure it was a thing with sheets. "Then we'll get some lunch and I'll even buy you a drink. You need to relax a little."

"I don't think that's a good idea, dad. You're a congressman. What if the press saw you providing a minor with alcohol? How do you expect to get reelected if you don't think of these things?"

"Okay. How about this? Have they taught you any...breathing exercises at that fancy song-and-dance school I'm sending you to?"

"Of course."

"Great. Teach them to me."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now."

"Okay. But I still want to go to the mall for those sheets."

XOXOXO

Blaine put his hand on Sam's shoulder, but then he removed it immediately. He didn't want to out Sam before he was ready-and being out to glee was not the same as being out to the whole school. "Are you in trouble?" he asked.

"Not really," Sam said. "You?"

"She doesn't know what's gotten into me. But no, not really."

"Are you willing to put up with another call tomorrow?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm not getting that gold star now anyway. But...where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere? Just walk?"

Blaine insisted that Sam go back in for his jacket and pants. Even if they were still a little damp, he told Sam, they'd be better than shorts. The delay made it a little riskier to sneak off the grounds, since they were obviously walking the opposite direction from everyone heading in from lunch. But sometimes if you just act like you have a perfect right to do whatever you're doing, no one challenges you.

They didn't talk for a while. But once they were a couple blocks from the school, Blaine took Sam's hand. That was at least as good as talking. The hand-holding did remind Blaine, however, that there was something they needed to talk about, with actual words. "Now that we're official...we're official now, right?"

Sam brought Blaine's hand to his lips and kissed it. "Right."

"Thank God. So...now that we're official, have you given any thought to coming out?"

"Like...to my parents, you mean?"

"Oh. I guess I was thinking more, you know, in general. Are your parents going to be a problem, do you think?"

"Sort of. Maybe." Sam kicked an icy snow clump. "Yeah."

"Sorry, I don't know why I didn't even think of your parents being a problem. Your mom's so nice and you seem, you know, close."

"Yeah. We are. But, I mean, she's religious. They both are, my whole family in fact."

"So like, wrath of God and all that?"

"I don't think I've ever heard her put it like that, but-"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't...It's funny, it's like they're the opposite of my parents. They're not religious, I mean not in any serious way, but we're not close."

"How did you tell your parents? How did they take it?"

"Well, it was a different situation from yours. I mean, I was a classic gay kid who always knew. And I never liked girls or even, like, tricked myself into thinking I liked girls. Not that I'm saying you tricked yourself."

"No, I know."

"So when I was twelve I fell in love with my best friend. I mean, 'in love' the way twelve-year-olds think they're in love. And I confessed to Cooper. I wasn't _scared_ of telling my parents, exactly. It just didn't occur to me to confide in them. And Cooper was in college already, very worldly and cosmopolitan, so of course it didn't faze him in the least. Or if it did, he managed to hide it from me well. And he sort of told them for me, and if it freaked them out at first, I never saw it. So it was kind of really easy, actually. I really need to thank Cooper for that next time I talk to him. It's probably the best thing he ever did for me. So anyway. Sorry if that doesn't help you much."

"Sounds like you were lucky."

"Yeah. Yeah, I really was." School was a lot harder, though, for Blaine anyway. But he couldn't bring himself to mention that right now.

"You think Cooper would talk to my mom?"

"Maybe..."

"Nah, I'm just kidding. She kinda already knows, actually."

"Why do you think that?"

"She, uh, heard us. And so did Carole."

"Oh my God." Blaine's cheeks turned red. Redder that is-they were already a little red from the wind. "I guess that explains why it seemed like Carole was _trying _to keep us apart."

"Did your parents ever catch you and Kurt?"

"No! God no! Maybe part of the reason it was never that big a deal was that it was always kind of abstract for them. They never had a visual...oh Jesus. I'm lucky again, I guess. They've both been too busy with their own _affairs_ to pay much attention to mine." He stopped walking and looked at his surroundings for the first time since they'd gotten out of sight of the school. "Hey, did you know there was a library here?"

"No. Wanna go in? I'm freezing."

"Me too."

They went inside and looked around. Blaine spotted an empty table in what looked like a quiet corner and pointed to it. They each grabbed a random book-so it would look like they were reading-and went to sit there.

"So your dad too?" Sam whispered.

"My dad too what?"

"Having an affair?"

"Oh. Yeah. So, remember when we left that horrible dinner with my mother and her douchebag boyfriend? And you asked what was wrong and I said I didn't want to talk about it?"

Sam nodded. "That's what you found out?"

"Uh huh. I mean, I knew...or, I strongly suspected...that there had been one or two in the past. And it wasn't _that_ big a surprise that he's having one now. He has been traveling a _lot_ for 'business' lately." Blaine bit his lip and opened up his book on...what was that? World War II weaponry. He had it upside down.

"There's more," Sam said. He put his hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, there's more. My mother's not the only one who had already been more or less planning to shack up with their, their co-adulterer. My father decided not to even come back to Ohio at all. Since he doesn't have any _stuff_ anymore to pack up anyway."

Sam pulled him in and tried to put his hand in his hair. Fucking gel. Blaine was crying now, but silently. They were in a library, after all. Still, all Sam could think to say to him was, "Shh. Shh." It used to work on Stevie and Stacey when they were littler.

"That's not the worst part," Blaine said. "He wants to start a family with her. _Start_ a family." His crying wasn't so silent anymore. He buried his face in Sam's shoulders to at least muffle the noise. And because he was Sam and he smelled good and he felt good.

Sam held him tight. And while he kept going, "Shh, shh," he prayed silently. _Dear God. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything I've done. Why do you have to take your wrath for me out on Blaine? Blaine's so good. Please, please stop hurting people I love and I'll do anything. And please don't let Burt's cancer be worse. You've already destroyed Blaine's family because of me, please don't destroy Kurt and Finn's too. Let Burt be okay and I'll do anything you want. Amen._

XOXOXO

"We would like a bottle of your finest wine," Kurt told the waitress at Breadstix. "Just for the adults. The four of us are minors." He indicated himself and Finn, Blaine and Sam. "We don't drink. Obviously."

"We have a house white and a house red," the server told Burt and Carole.

"Which goes better with pasta?" Burt asked.

"With the marinara, which I assume you mean?" Kurt said. "Red." He looked at the waitress and added, "Not that I would know from experience, obviously."

"I thought I'd get the meat sauce, actually," Burt said. "It's a special occasion."

"Fine, have the meat sauce. But still red."

"We'll each have a glass of the red," Carole said.

"And four Cokes," Finn added.

Kurt and Blaine and Sam all said, "Diet" in unison.

"Dudes," Finn said. "I want regular!" he called after the server, who was on her way back to the kitchen. He hoped she heard, because, Diet Coke. Ew.

When the drinks arrived-two red wines and four Diet Cokes-Kurt stood to make a toast. "First of all, here's to my dad's clean bill of health. Suck it, cancer!" They all cheered and clinked glassed. "I love you so much, dad. And I'm _so_ relieved that you're going to be fine. I'm sorry, I know I've probably been driving you all crazy today-"

"Yes, you have!" Burt said.

"Well, and thank you, all of you, for putting up with me. And thank you for the new sheets, dad, they're lovely. And you two..." He pointed at Blaine and Sam. "I'm sorry I freaked out about you two. It was a surprise, I admit. A _huge_ surprise. But if you two want to...date...or whatever it is you call what you're doing..."

"Wait, what?" Finn said. Blaine and _Sam_? Dating? And everyone else seemed to know this already?

"...then I want you to be happy. Just, please. Touch my new sheets and I will kill you."

Everyone clinked glasses again and drank. Finn still wasn't quite sure what was going on, especially that thing about the sheets. And he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what was going on with that.

Sam stood and announced he wanted to make a toast too. "So, here's to Burt, and to Carole, and to cancer sucking it." More cheering and glass clinking. "And I'm so grateful to you guys for taking me, being a second family to me. I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused you lately, and, uh, I'm going to try to make it up to you."

"Sam-" Carole tried to interrupt, but he wasn't done.

"I think I know what I have to do, and the test results make me think I'm on the right path. So, finally, I'd just like to say thank you, God, for sparing this family any more of your wrath. Amen."

Sam sat down. Burt and Carole exchanged awkward glances. Kurt looked to Blaine for an explanation, but Blaine was looking at Sam, trying to get him to look back at him. Finn was the only one who could speak. "Dude, what the hell was _that _all about?"


	8. Friday: IHOP

Kurt looked down at Sam, sleeping sprawled out on the too-short hideaway in the basement. His mouth was wide open, he had the worst case of bed head ever—yet he was undeniably cute, with one bare knee and one bare shoulder sticking out from under the sheet. Blaine certainly could pick 'em. Well, so could Kurt, actually. After all, he was the one who thought Sam was gay when he first joined glee club. What was it Sam had said? That he wasn't gay "at all"? Uh huh.

If only Sam had been more honest with himself, more self-aware, when he first came to McKinley, maybe all this could have been Kurt's. But then...but then maybe he wouldn't have met Blaine, and he couldn't regret his time with Blaine, not at all. He regretted the way it had ended, but he wouldn't want never to have been with him at all.

And Sam was hot and everything, but he didn't think they would have lasted long as a couple. He didn't think Sam was his long-lost soul mate or anything. Besides, Kurt was with Adam now.

"Sam. Sam!" Kurt kicked the leg of the hideaway, hoping to shake him awake. "Sam, get up!" No reaction. "Sam, don't make me sing." Still nothing. "Okay." Kurt cleared his throat and started belting out, "Good morning, starshiiiine! The earth says hellooooo!" He started turning on every light in the room. "You twinkle aboooove us! We twinkle beloooow!"

Sam covered his head with his pillow, then reluctantly threw it aside and looked at Kurt with bewilderment, followed by annoyance. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

"Wake up, Sam!" Kurt said chipperly. "I'm taking you and Blaine out for breakfast."

"Didn't you do that yesterday? And what time is it, anyway?"

"To answer your first question, I took Blaine out for breakfast yesterday, but _you_ bailed on us. To answer your second question, it's early. I have a lot of questions for you two."

"And you have to interrogate us at this ungodly hour?"

"Hey, it's your own fault. I wanted to interrogate you last night when we got home from Breadstix, but you said you were too tired."

"Ugh..."

"Come on. Up. Or I start doing Disney songs."

XOXOXO

Sam should have just let Kurt sing Disney songs at him. He would have greatly preferred that, he decided, to sitting across a table from him at IHOP, with Blaine in between them, at six in the morning. And Kurt was humming "A Whole New World" anyway while Sam reread the menu.

What Sam really needed was to talk to Blaine alone. _Before _Kurt asked a bunch of questions that Blaine might not like Sam's answers to. But he didn't see how he was going to be able to do this, except maybe by running out the clock. If he could stall through breakfast—well, and glee; Kurt would undoubtedly go with them to glee—maybe he'd be able to talk to Blaine privately.

"Sam, you've read the entire menu twice already," Kurt said, snatching it away from him.

"Yeah, but...there's so much to choose from."

"And you're really considering the seniors' early dinner specials?"

"What? It's early. I'm a senior." Blaine smiled at Sam and put his hand on his knee.

Kurt looked from Sam to Blaine and back again. "So! Tell me everything!"

"Well, uh..." Sam started. "We met two years ago..."

"Oh, please, Sam! Blaine, you tell me everything."

"Well," Blaine started. "We just started spending a lot of time together this year. You know, we ran for student council together, and Sam, he helped me more than anyone to deal with losing you. And we were just spending all this time together and got really close as friends, and I started to have feelings for him..." Blaine looked at Sam again, and he looked so damn happy. It was just killing Sam. How could Blaine look at him like that when he'd ruined his life?

Kurt waved away Blaine's whole speech. "I know all that already. What? I do still have my moles. Sam, back to you. When did you become interested in Blaine?"

Sam sighed. He hadn't even really talked about this with Blaine, who may well have wondered the same thing. So that's who he looked at when he answered. "It's like Blaine said. We were spending a lot of time together, we became friends." He looked at Kurt before he said the next thing: "He really took your break-up hard. He blamed himself—"

"I blamed myself because I was one hundred percent in the wrong," Blaine interrupted.

Sam just shook his head. "We don't need to go over that now. I'm sure Kurt knows what happened as well as anyone." Kurt frowned and dropped his head. "My point is that you...it just killed me to see how much you wanted to, to _punish _yourself for what happened. I mean not just 'happened.' It wasn't like you were just struck by lightning, I know it was for something bad that you actually did. But you were such a good person, you _are_ such a good person, and I couldn't stand that you couldn't see that." He glanced over at Kurt and saw that he looked wistful. Well, good. He _should_ regret letting Blaine go. Blaine was as close to perfect as anyone he knew, and to just throw him over like that because he made one mistake, which he instantly and totally regretted... "So. That's when the emotional aspect started, I guess."

Kurt glanced at Blaine with that wistful look again. _Ha, suck it, Kurt. You don't deserve him. Though neither do I._ "And the physical aspect?" Kurt asked. "I mean, I unfortunately happen to know that there is one."

Sam coughed. "That's harder to pinpoint. I guess I noticed how pretty his eyes are first." Sam was looking into them right now, and he felt again like he was noticing them for the first time. In fact he couldn't remember when the actual first time he noticed them was, because every time still felt like that. "And his smile. And then I noticed that the combination, when he looked at me and smiled, that it made me feel kind of...kind of gooey or something. Oh, God." He knew he was blushing now. "I sound like a..."

"You sound adorable, Sam," Kurt assured him.

"Yeah, well." Being called adorable by Kurt didn't help with the blushing. "And then I noticed his cute little butt." Ha, at least Blaine was blushing now too.

The waiter came over to take their order, thank God. Sam couldn't remember anything he'd read on the menu, but he was pretty confident that they had omelets and that they could make one with just egg whites. They did and they could. Kurt got whole grain pancakes, and Blaine ordered eggs and toast.

"So let me ask you something, Sam," Kurt said when the waiter left. "Every gay guy I know—and there are way more of us in New York, even just at NYADA, than in all of Lima—says kind of the same thing about having always known. I haven't really talked to any bisexual guys, which, I mean I assume that's what you are, right?"

"I guess. I mean, sort of by definition, I guess, because the whole being into girls thing wasn't just a big ol' lie."

"So, did _you_ always know? I mean, is Blaine the first guy you've..."

"Definitely."

"And have you had crushes on other guys, or...Or what? Or was it a total surprise?"

"It was a total surprise."

"No male celebrity crushes or anything even?"

Sam tried to remember if he'd had anything like that. He'd never gotten too hung up on celebrity culture anyway, so... "No. I don't think so."

"How about, like, Mick Jagger?"

"Dude, he's like eighty."

"Okay, but say he travels here in a time machine from nineteen sixty-nine. Him and nineteen sixty-nine David Bowie. But without the heroin, was Bowie on heroin in sixty-nine? I think he was. And they're like, 'Sam, do you wanna be in the middle of our Mick-Jagger-and-David-Bowie sandwich?' What do you say?"

"Uh. I guess I say, 'Dudes, show me how that time machine works.'"

Kurt shook his head. "You're hopeless. Okay, how about this? Adam Levine. Adam Levine walks through the front door of the IHOP right now and says, 'I know I'm straight as far as everyone knows, but I want you, hot blond guy, to do me right now.' What do you do?"

"Oh. Adam Levine?" Sam considered this. Adam Levine was a very good-looking guy, after all.

"Sam, if you don't take Adam Levine, I totally will," Blaine said.

"Blainey!"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm just saying. I'll give you a free pass for Adam Levine, but you have to give me one too."

"Okay," Sam said. "Fair enough."

"He calls you Blainey?" Kurt asked.

Blaine smiled. "What? It's cute." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"What did you call him?" Sam asked.

"I called him my big—"

"Never mind!" Blaine said, blushing. "Kurt called me Blaine and nothing else."

"Okay, okay. I won't tell," Kurt said. He mouthed the words "Ask me later" to Sam and winked. "Okay, so his smile made you all gooey inside—which I totally get, by the way, it did that to me too—and you noticed his cute little butt—which I also totally get. So then, when did you make a move?"

"It was...it was just last week," Sam said. Crap, he had almost forgotten about how much he'd fucked everything up and what he had to do. "It was the day I burned down his house."

"Sam, for the love of God would you please stop saying that was your fault?"

"It was. It's very sweet of you to pretend it wasn't, but we both know it was. And what's with this 'for the love of God' stuff? I thought you didn't even believe in God."

"First of all, it's just an expression. Like when I say, 'Oh, God, I'm gonna come,' I don't really think God is up in Heaven looking down and going, 'Way to go, Blaine. High five!'" He said this pretty loudly, actually, but seemed oblivious to the other patrons' reactions. And their waiter's. "And second, I never said I don't believe in God."

"So you do?"

"I don't know. I don't know, okay? One thing I don't stay up at night worrying about is that God burned my house down to punish you for cheating on Brittany."

"Wait," Kurt said. "You really think that? And also you cheated on Brittany?"

The waiter deposited their food on the table and left without asking if he could bring anything else or even making eye contact.

"No," Blaine answered the second question for Sam. "That's the really infuriating part about his whole wrath-of-God theory. He wasn't even cheating on Brittany, according to Brittany's own rules."

"Brittany's rules of cheating?" Kurt asked. "I don't think I'm even going to ask about those."

"All you need to know about them," Sam said, "is that they were bullshit. I _did_ cheat on her."

"If you cheated on her, then she cheated on you. Jesus fucking Christ! That's also an expression, by the way."

"What about the second time? What about the third time? What about the fourth time, the day Kurt came home?"

Kurt put his fingers in his ears. "La la la! Really don't want to hear about that!"

"By the fourth time we fucked, Brittany had already broken up with you."

"Well, not _really_ though."

"Okay. We're settling this right now." Blaine took out his phone and called Brittany.

"She's probably sleeping," Sam said. "Or getting her pussy eaten."

"Oh, Sam, you did not just say that in front of me!" Kurt said.

"Hey Brittany. It's Blaine...Blaine Anderson...Yeah, Blaine Warbler. Say, sorry if I'm interrupting something like sleep or some sort of lesbian sex act..." He looked at Sam and told him, "She says I'm not interrupting a lesbian sex act." "So Brittany, can you clear something up for me and Sam? Because we're having a disagreement. When did you break up with Sam?...Uh huh. Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker phone." He pushed a button. "Okay, can you repeat that Brittany? When did you break up with Sam?"

"In glee club on...you know, whatever day it was before I left for Boston."

"So, Tuesday, right? Because you left for Boston on Wednesday?"

"If you say so. Do you love him, Blaine Warbler? Because he loves you."

"Yes," Blaine said. He didn't realize how loud his voice had become until he lowered it to answer this question. "Yes, I love him."

"Then stop fighting over when I broke up with him. Why does it even matter?"

"It doesn't, Brittany. Sorry to wake you." He hung up.

"See?" Blaine said softly, taking both Sam's hands in his. "Even Brittany says it doesn't matter."

"But it's not up to Brittany," Sam said through tears. "Brittany isn't God."

"Sam," Kurt said. "Is this actually about God punishing you—through Blaine, apparently—for cheating on Brittany? Or is it about God punishing you for being with a boy?"

"I...I don't know. Maybe?" Sam tried not to look at Blaine when he said this. He tried, but he couldn't help but see that Blaine was crushed. Blaine had been trying not to acknowledge to himself the possibility that this was what was really going on in Sam's head. He had willed himself to believe Sam's claim that it was the cheating angle that was bothering him.

"Okay," Kurt said. "Think about the implications of that. If you believe that God would punish you for having sex with a boy, if you believe that gay sex is bad, then you can't really believe that Blaine is as good as you claim to think he is. As good as he actually is."

"No, but...Of course Blaine is good. I mean, you know him. He's so good. He can't help it that he's gay."

Ah yes, the can't-help-being-gay argument. Kurt had grown past this one. It had started to really irritate him, in fact, as it had as its premise the assumption that there was something at least kind of bad about being gay. But he'd take it as a starting point if it would help Sam see reason. "Right. Blaine can't help being gay. And if you believe in God, then you believe that God made him gay, made me gay, made you bi. So why would he punish you for it then? Wouldn't that make him the world's most giant asshole?"

"I don't think you should call God an asshole."

"And yet I just did. And I'll bet you anything my house is still standing. Or if God's MO is to burn down the boyfriend's house, I'll bet you anything that Adam's apartment building is still standing."

Sam broke off a piece of omelet with his fork, but the thought of putting it in his mouth suddenly revolted him. "You're just making fun of me now, dude."

"I'm not trying to make fun of you. I'm just trying to point out the holes in your reasoning. Let me try a different approach...Okay, first tell me what led you to believe that God was punishing you in the first place. Or Blaine, or whoever he's punishing."

"He's punishing me through Blaine. Because hurting someone I love hurts me more than hurting me would. That's why I was so worried about your dad that..."

Kurt remembered the weird prayer at Breadstix last night. "You were so worried about my dad that what?"

"That I promised Him, promised God, I mean, that if He would just make your dad okay, that I would do anything He wants. And He did! It worked. But I think what He wants is for me not to be with Blaine." Sam started to cry and leaned instinctively into Blaine's chest. Then he pulled himself away. The last thing he had a right to expect was comfort from Blaine. "I'm so sorry, Blainey."

Blaine stood up and walked out of the restaurant. Kurt watched him, saw him walk into the parking lot and get in his car but not drive anywhere. He was hunched over the steering wheel, no doubt crying.

Kurt moved into the empty chair next to Sam. He pulled Sam onto his own shoulder and patted his back. "Okay, Sam. It's okay." The waiter came and cleared Blaine's plate of uneaten food. Kurt made a signal to him to ask for water.

When Sam had calmed down a little, Kurt made him drink some water. Then he brought Sam back to his shoulder and started talking again. "What I said earlier about God being a giant asshole? I admit, that was mainly to provoke you. But the god you seem to believe in, the one you've described...He really does seem like a giant asshole. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're saying that He burned Blaine's house down to punish _you_ for having sex with Blaine. That Blaine himself was basically innocent because he can't help being gay, but _you _could help it because, I guess, you'd made it this far in life without screwing a dude, but nevertheless he burns _Blaine's _house down because that way _you_ suffer more than if he burned _your _house down. Is that right?"

"Yeah. Though it sounds kind of weird when you put it like that."

"Well how would you put it?"

"No, you've pretty much got it."

"So, does it seem to you like this is all totally fair and just? I mean, what about this scenario makes you think, 'Now _this_ is a god I really want to worship'?"

"Fear? I guess."

"Ah, fear. It's hard to argue with that...Just out of curiosity, what does the fire department say led to the fire? I mean, I don't think they put down 'God's vengeance on gay teenagers' in the official record."

"Well, I haven't seen the official report or whatever yet, if it's even done. But I assume that what it will say is that the fire was caused by us leaving a cake in the oven and then falling asleep."

"Falling asleep as in after doing it?"

"Yeah."

"See, there's your problem, Evans. Next time do it in the shower or something. It's hard to fall asleep there."

Sam actually laughed, but just for a second. "It wasn't even just the house burning down, though," he said. "As if that wouldn't be bad enough. But there was also his mom...and his dad...did he tell you about them?" Kurt nodded. "So his whole family is destroyed as a direct result of me, not to mention that we'll probably lose regionals now because practice has been so fucked up—"

"Hold on. Blaine's family is not destroyed because of you."

"It is though. Because his mother moved in with her douchebag boyfriend, and his father's not even coming back to Ohio because there's no house to come back to—"

"But no. The fire might be why Blaine's mother moved in with the douchebag _now_ and why his father isn't coming back to Ohio _before_ moving in with his mistress. But from what Blaine told me, both those things were going to happen anyway. It wasn't like the fire caused them to have affairs they wouldn't have had otherwise."

"No. I guess not. But...but it doesn't even matter. What matters now is that I promised God that if He made your dad okay, that I would do whatever He wants. I can't break my end of the deal now."

"My father would not want you to not be with Blaine because of him."

"Oh, he'd rather have the cancer get worse? Besides, it's not because of him—"

"Wait. Sam, your deal-with-God theory doesn't even make any sense. When did you two strike your agreement?"

"You mean when did I pray?"

"Exactly. When did you pray?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Like after one o'clock?"

"Probably."

"We got the test results at one. Your prayer couldn't have possibly affected the results; we already had them."

"But...maybe it wasn't one yet. I'm not sure."

"Even if it wasn't, it doesn't matter. My dad had the test taken over a week ago. Before the fire, before you and Blaine did it. Yesterday was just when we found out the results. He was already cancer-free by last week, probably way before that."

"Wait. So..." Sam went over this in his head for several minutes. Kurt seemed right. Was he missing something? No. No, Kurt was actually right. "Holy fucking shit. You're like an atheist Sherlock Holmes! Wait, are you actually an atheist?"

"Yeah."

"You're an atheist Sherlock Holmes! Shit, I gotta find out where Blaine went." He pulled his phone out.

"He's in the parking lot, Watson, sitting in his car."

Sam jumped up, knocking his water glass over onto Kurt's pancakes, and ran outside. And Kurt had actually been planning on eating those eventually! Maybe no one else was hungry, but he was.

Kurt was trying to stop the water from spreading any further when the waiter came over with a towel. "Sorry about this," he said. "Could I get, could I just maybe get some toast?"

"It'd be no problem for me to get you another order of pancakes. No charge," the server said.

"Thank you, that's very nice." He may as well let Sam and Blaine have a little time to themselves before he joined them.

"You bet. You know, not that I was _trying_ to eavesdrop or anything, but I just wanted to shake that kid. I'm glad you were able to talk some sense into him."

"Oh, pshaw. It's what I do."

"Would you...would you like to get coffee with me sometime this weekend?"

"Oh!" Kurt hadn't really noticed before, but the waiter was actually pretty cute. "Thanks, but I have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Well, I hope he appreciates your skills in the art of persuasion."

Kurt giggled. Oh, he would definitely be telling Adam about this.

XOXOXO

Sam knocked softly on the car window where Blaine was sitting with his head on the steering wheel. Blaine rolled it down but didn't look up. "Are you here to tell me why we can't be together?"

"No. I'm here to apologize. Can I come in?"

Blaine rolled the window back up. Sam waited, expecting the doors to unlock, but they didn't. He knocked again. "Blainey?"

Blaine rolled the window down again, but only a couple inches this time. "I'm not interested in hearing you apologize again for ruining my life."

"That's not what I want to apologize for this time. I swear. Please let me in?"

Blaine reluctantly unlocked the doors. He still didn't lift his head, even when Sam got in the passenger's seat next to him. "What do you want to apologize for?"

"For almost ruining what we had. What we can still have, if I haven't been too big an idiot and screwed it up. For listening to Kitty of all people. For my, what do they call it? Internalized homophobia, I guess? Is there anything here you'd like me to elaborate on?"

"I don't think you're an internalized homophobe," Blaine said. He still didn't lift his head, but he did turn it and smile at Sam.

"But you do agree I'm an idiot."

"I agree you shouldn't have listened to Kitty."

"So...if you're willing to put up with me freaking out about weird things now and then, and maybe even being an idiot—although I do promise no to listen to Kitty anymore—and if you're willing to run the risk of incurring the wrath of God on my behalf..." Blaine shot him a look that said his little joke on this subject was too soon and not welcome. "Sorry. If you're willing to put up with me, I'd really, really still like to be with you."

Blaine took his hand. "You make it sound like putting up with you is a chore."

"Well I know it is. At least when I'm all crazy like I have been."

"In your defense, it has been a crazy week."

"Can we kiss and make up?" Sam asked.

"I don't think we were fighting. But I'm not going to say no to the kissing suggestion."

He leaned toward Sam and Sam met him halfway, above the center console. Their lips pressed together and their hands cupped each others' heads and Sam said, "Fucking gel."

"You love my fucking gel," Blaine said.

"It's true that the smell of watermelon totally gets me hard now. But that's only because of who the smell of watermelon is attached to."

"I guess the first time we have a romantic picnic I'm packing lots of watermelon." He kissed Sam again, but it kind of sucked. That is, kissing Sam never sucked, except sometimes in the literal sense, which was awesome. What sucked was that with the steering wheel and the shifter thing and emergency break in between them and Sam waaaay the hell over on the other side of the car, they were barely even in contact. "Fucking bucket seats," he said.

"You totally need to go old school with your next vehicle. You need a Chrysler that's as big as a whale. Ginormous bench seats that seat about twenty."

"Totally. But since right now we're stuck in my Volkswagen that only seats about two...wanna join me in the backseat? Or, as I like to call it, the love shack?"

"Totally." Sam got out and got into the backseat via the door, like a normal adult would do.

Blaine, however, was in too big a hurry for that and tried to climb over the seat. And he got stuck, with his ass against the ceiling and one leg under the steering wheel. "Uh, little help, Sammy?"

"No, wait a minute."

"What do you mean wait a minute? Come on, this is less comfortable than it looks."

"No, but dude, I'm having a vision. If this were a convertible, I could just stand on the seat behind you, rip your pants off, slam my cock into you, and you'd be stuck there and you'd just have to take it."

"If this were a convertible I wouldn't be stuck."

"Then I guess I'd just have to hold you down."

"And I'd be like, 'No, you mustn't! I'm a virgin!'"

"And I'd be like, 'Sweet. I am going to enjoy popping that tight little cherry of yours.'"

"And I'd be like, 'Oh my God, your cock is so huge. There's no way I can take that thing up my ass.'"

"And I'd be like, "Oh, you're going to take it. You are going to take it over and over and over and you're going to beg for mercy and then you're going to beg for more and I'm going to give you more until my cock explodes in that wrecked ass of yours and you're filled with my come.'"

"Sammy. Stop teasing me now and help me down for real."

Sam sighed. "Okay. I guess we can do a damsel in distress thing, though that's not nearly as hot." He surveyed Blaine's position and was able to talk him through moving his leg so it was free of the steering wheel. Then he grabbed Blaine under the arms and tugged until he jerked free and fell on top of him. They wiggled around until Sam was lying on his back and Blaine was face-down on top of him.

"My hero," Blaine said. He kissed Sam softly, then not so softly. He moved from his lips to his neck and chest while grinding against him. "Whatever can I do to repay you?"

"I'll think of something." He grabbed Blaine's ass and pulled it harder toward him. He tried to slide his hands under Blaine's waistband but the fucking pants were too tight. Blaine lifted himself up just for a second, just enough to undo his fly. Sam took the opportunity to push the pants off his hips and get his hands inside his briefs. One hand guided Blaine's rocking motions while the other moved toward his hole. Just before it reached its destination, there was a knock at the window.

They looked up, startled, and saw Kurt shielding his eyes. "Seriously, guys? In the IHOP parking lot? Do us all a favor and get a room. Just not mine."

Sam removed his hands from Blaine's ass and put them around him in a chaste-ish hug. "Your ex-boyfriend has really bad timing," he whispered.

"I know. He's right though. We'd probably get arrested."

"It's just...It's so unfair," Sam whined.

"I know. I'll make it up to you later. I promise."

"Guys, really. Break it up. You know we're going to be late, right?"

Blaine reluctantly buttoned his pants back up and got out of the backseat. He opened the passenger door for Kurt and got into the driver's seat. Sam sat up and put on his seatbelt.

"I don't know what you said to him in there, Kurt, but whatever it was, thank you!"

"Kurt's a fucking genius," Sam said. "He's an atheist Sherlock Holmes. I'm telling everyone."

"That's okay," Kurt said. "Not that I'm in the closet or anything, but the only people more hated in America than gays are atheists."

XOXOXO

They were late for glee, as Kurt told them they would be, but otherwise it was the first really good practice they'd had in over a week. Afterwards, on the way out, Sam took Blaine's hand.

"Sam, are you sure you want to hold my hand at school? I mean, nothing makes me happier—well, maybe a couple things, but nothing we could do at school—but have you really thought about—"

"Blaine. I could not care less what anyone at this school thinks. I'd say I didn't care what anyone thinks period, but if I'm being honest, there are two people..."

"Your mom and dad?"

Sam nodded.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Well...do you wanna take a road trip with me after regionals?"


	9. After Regionals: Kentucky

It was Sunday, the day after regionals, the day before McKinley's spring break officially started. Sam and Blaine were driving down I-75 to Sam's family's house in Kentucky. They planned to stay two nights. Sam's mother had to work Monday, but his father had traded shifts with a coworker so he could have the day off.

"We should have waited until morning to leave," Blaine said less than half an hour into their drive. He was already restless for several reasons, one of which was that he was not used to being a passenger in Sam's car while Sam drove. It wasn't that Sam was a bad driver; it was just that they usually took Blaine's car because it was nicer and more comfortable. But Sam had wanted to drive his car to his parents', saying it needed some work that he and his dad could to together. It seemed to Blaine that the car needing work would be a good reason _not_ to drive it across state lines, but it seemed important to Sam for some reason.

"I don't see why you're so nervous," Sam said, although he was probably more way nervous than Blaine. "You've already met my mom. My dad's a nice guy too. You'll like him."

"Sure, but when I first met your mom it was before she knew I was fucking her son. And even after she found out, I was blissfully unaware that she knew."

"Well, just don't fuck me while we're in my parents' house and it should be okay."

"That's another reason we should have waited till morning." Kurt and Burt had just returned this afternoon to New York and D.C., respectively; Blaine and Sam had taken off right after dropping them at the airport. The whole time they were home, Sam and Blaine hadn't managed to be alone together once. It was frustrating, to say the least. One good thing had come out of their dry spell of ten agonizing days, namely that they had been able to channel their pent-up sexual energy into the performance at regionals. And they won! But regionals were over now and they still had plenty of leftover energy to burn.

"I know," Sam said. "It's been hell. Why did Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury have to get married in a quickie ceremony? At least at their first wedding everyone got laid." Now why in the world did Sam have to bring up the last time Blaine had sex with Kurt? He'd been watching them while Kurt was home, not because he was suspicious exactly, but to see if there was still something there between them. He was more or less satisfied that there wasn't, but still, Kurt was Blaine's first love. He knew Blaine had thought they'd be together forever.

"I didn't know you and Brittany did it at their wedding—or non-wedding or whatever."

"Well, no, it wasn't newsworthy. Not like..." _Not like you and Kurt_. "Not like Santana and Quinn. Brittany and I did it all the time when we were together."

"Do you miss doing Brittany?"

"I miss doing _you_, man. Remember when Kurt busted us at the IHOP and you said you'd make it up to me? You haven't yet."

"Believe me, it's driving me crazy at least as much as it is you. Just talking about it has me super hard right now."

"Yeah?" Sam kept his eyes on the road while he let his right hand stray from the steering wheel to feel Blaine's crotch. "Jesus, you're not kidding."

Blaine gasped. "Do you really think you should do that while you're driving?"

"What? It's not like you're doing it to me."

"Good point. Keep doing it."

Sam rubbed and squeezed until he could feel his boyfriend's giant cock throbbing through his jeans. Blaine whimpered when he pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry, baby. It's too distracting. I'll crash us if I keep it up."

"Can we pull over at a rest stop or something?"

"Uh...that actually sounds _really _sleazy, and not in a good way. And also kinda dangerous."

"I guess, but...Cock tease," Blaine whined.

"I really am sorry, Blainey." He had an idea. "It's too distracting for me to touch you while I'm driving, but you could touch yourself."

"Jerk off in the car while we're driving down the interstate?"

"Why not? Just, like, cover up with your jacket or something so you don't give any pervy truck drivers a show."

Blaine didn't really hesitate much before he reached into the backseat and grabbed his jacket. He draped it over his lap and reached under to open the front of his pants. "Can you help me?"

"Baby, I really don't think that's—"

"I just mean talk dirty to me."

"Like what? You want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you when I get you home? Or you want me to tell you what I want you to do to me?"

"Whichever is more debauched." Blaine touched himself lightly.

"I don't know what that means. Does it mean whichever is dirtier?"

"Uh huh."

"They'd basically be the same. The only difference would be whom would be doing what to whom."

"Okay, fine." So far this was not Blaine's idea of dirty talk. "You to me, tell me what you are going to do to me."

"Like how I'll start by untying your adorable little bowtie and pull it off with my teeth? And then I'll unbutton your collar and trace your collarbone with my tongue?"

"Yeah, kinda like that, but get to the good part."

"Patience, Blainey. We still have a couple more hours in the car. You know teasing you is the best part."

Blaine stroked himself languidly. "Yeah, for you maybe."

"Of course for me. Don't complain. You get to come—eventually. The least you can do is let me have my fun teasing you."

"But you could come too. I could drive for a while, and—"

"I'm not interested in that," Sam said.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I'm going to save it up. I am going to take weeks' worth of holding it in out on you when we get home. I'm going to fuck you until I explode, and then I'm going to get hard again and you're going to suck me until I explode in your mouth, and then I'm going to get hard again and fuck you again, and so on, all fucking night. You're not going to sleep at all that night, and you're not going to be able to sit at all the next day."

"Tell me how you'll fuck me, Sammy."

"All right. Where was I? Oh yeah, your bowtie—"

"Saaam!"

"And you'll whine at me, 'Saaam, forget about my bowtie. Touch my cock.' And I'll say, 'Blainey, I'm not ready to touch your cock.' And you'll whine again, 'Saaam!' and you'll reach for it yourself...yeah, you'll try to touch yourself like you're doing now, cause you'll be so hard, your dick will be aching to be touched. And I'll tell you, 'Blainey, if you touch that, there will be consequences.' But you won't be able to help it. You'll try not to, because you want to be a good boy and obey me, but you just need to touch it _so bad_ your hand will move there all on its own, you can't stop it. And I'll say, 'I warned you, Blainey. If you can't listen to me...' and I'll have to take your little bowtie and tie your hands behind your back with it."

Blaine gasped and stroked himself harder. He hadn't been expecting Sam to go there...nor would he have expected to like it. But he undeniably did. "Will you untie me if I'm good?"

"I'll untie you _after_...if you're good _during_. I couldn't untie you right away, now could I? How would you learn your lesson?"

"I wanna be good, Sammy. I'll do whatever you say."

"Are you _really_ gonna be good this time, Blainey? Are you_ really_ gonna obey? Cause if you're not..."

"I really, really will. I promise, just give me a chance. I just wanna make you happy."

"All right. I'll give you another chance. I'll tell you to drop to your knees and suck my dick. And you'll do it, you'll kneel in front of me. You'll be really, really eager to do it, too, because you love my dick, you love the way it feels in your mouth, you love the way it tastes in your mouth."

"I really do, Sammy," Blaine said breathily.

"I know you do, baby. And I love the way your mouth feels on my cock. You're the best cocksucker who's ever sucked my cock. And you'll wanna make me blow my load in your mouth, you'll wanna swallow all my jizz. But I won't let you. You know why?"

"Why, Sammy?" Blaine really did want to swallow all Sam's jizz.

"Because I haven't—shit." The car had veered off onto the shoulder for a second there. "Because I haven't even ravaged that beautiful, tight little ass of yours yet."

"Hurry, Sammy. Please hurry and fuck me," Blaine said. He had sort of forgotten that Sam couldn't really fuck him right now. What he said next _was_ literally true, though: "I'm really close, I'm gonna come really soon."

"You're not gonna cum until I tell you to, are you Blainey?"

"Sam..."

"_Are_ you, Blainey?"

"I'll wait until you tell me to," Blaine promised. The last thing he wanted to do was ease up and loosen his grip, but he forced himself: it was the only was he had any chance of keeping his promise. "Just please don't be cruel, Sammy."

"Have I ever been cruel to you, baby?"

"No, Sammy. You're the best."

"That's right. And I know how bad you want my cock. You don't think I wouldn't give it to you, do you, baby?"

"I know you'll give it to me. I really, really want you to give it to me."

"And I'm going to. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to pull the car over, right here off the side of the interstate. I'm going to order you out of the car and not let you pull your pants back up. I know they're down around your knees now; as soon as you stand they'll slide down so they're around your ankles. I'm going to take your adorable bowtie off and tie your hands behind your back with it. Then I'm going to bend you over the hood. Everybody driving by will be like, 'Oh my God, look at that guy with the amazingly hot ass. He is about to get _fucked_.'" Blaine whimpered and unwittingly picked up his jerking pace. Sam noticed. "And then you'll feel my cock in you and it'll be like, 'Blam!' You'll just feel my cock pounding and pounding and pounding your sweet ass, you'll feel it everywhere. You ready, Blainey?"

"I'm so ready, Sammy."

"Come then. Come for me."

It took a split second for Blaine to realize what Sam had said, exactly the same length of time it took for him to start coming. His whole body tensed and jerked—he felt like he would have levitated right out of the seat if he weren't buckled in. He grabbed the seatbelt's shoulder straps with his free hand and bit down on it. When he was able to stop biting, the only thing he could say for a while was, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, _oh fuck_." His come shot out everywhere: all over his jacket, on his shirt, a little on his neck.

"Dude, you almost sprayed me in the eye. Feel better?"

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Nah, I was just kidding. The angle was all wrong, my eye wasn't really in the line of fire."

"No, I mean...do you still want to bend me over the hood of the car and fuck me?"

Sam laughed. "Totally. But not on the side of the interstate. Did you really think—"

"Oh. No, of course not. It's just, you paint a very vivid picture." Blaine tried to assess the damage to his jacket and shirt.

"Well thanks. It's not like I don't spend enough time thinking about it. There's some McDonald's napkins in the glove compartment, by the way."

"Thanks." Blaine pulled out a thick stack of napkins and started to wipe himself and his clothes off. "So...would you really like to do all that stuff to me some time? I mean like the tying up and bossing me around? Since you've apparently thought about it a lot."

"If you want me to. But actually, uh...the roles are usually reversed in my head."

"So I tie you up and boss you around?" Blaine asked.

"I wouldn't mind trying it some time," Sam said as casually as he could manage. "I mean, not if you don't want to, obviously."

"Maybe. Do you think...do you think you want to be punished because you still kinda think what we're doing is bad?"

"Um. I haven't really psychoanalyzed myself about it too much. But...I was kinda into the same stuff, or the idea of it anyway, with Brittany, and I don't think I was too freaked out about being with her."

"Oh. So...should I ask Brittany for tips on how to keep you in line?"

XOXOXO

"Sammy!" Two blond kids raced out the front door, and Sam scooped up one in each arm.

He twirled them around and said, "Oh my God, you guys have each grown like a foot. I can't even hold you anymore!"

"Yes, you can!" Stacey said.

"No, I'm totally serious." He wobbled about and then crashed onto the grass, still holding the two kids who landed on top of him. Stacey started to tickle him, and Stevie joined in. "Aaah! Blaine, help me! I'm being attacked by two tickle monsters!"

Blaine took a tentative step toward the tickling sibling pile. The screen door opened, and this black dog—it was huge!—galloped toward him. The creature jumped up and put its front paws on Blaine's shoulders and tried to lick his face. Blaine tried to turn away from the beast, but it was determined. "Nice dog," he tried, patting its head.

Sam looked up from his pile and said, "Pupsaur, come here!" The dog got down off Blaine and ran eagerly to Sam, who drew it into the pile and scratched its head. "Pupsaur, leave Blainey alone. He doesn't have a dog, you'll probably freak him out."

"I'm not freaked out," Blaine said, brushing the dirt and dog hair off his shirt. "I love dogs."

Sam sat up. "Pupsaur, where's your stick? Go get your stick! Go get your stick, boy!" The dog looked around and ran to fetch what looked like a whole branch that all the bark had been chewed off.

"What's his name? Pop Sore?"

"Pupsaur," Stevie said. "It's short for Puppysaurus."

"It's what can happen when you let a five-year-old and a six-year-old name the family pet," Sam explained. "I totally wanted to call him Iron Dog, but I was shot down."

"We're not five and six!" Stacey protested.

"But you were when we adopted Pupsaur, weren't you? Weren't they, Paupsaur? Weren't they, Puppy Wuppy Saurus? Yes, they were!" He jumped up and said, "Hey, guys. I want you to meet my friend Blaine. Blaine, this is Stevie and Stacey."

"Hi Stevie. Hi Stacey."

"Hey," Stevie said.

"Hey," Stacey said. She added, "Mom said you're Sam's boyfriend."

"Well..." Blaine said, "I'm Sam's friend, and I'm a boy, so—"

"Mom told you that?" Sam asked.

"She told Dad."

"Stacey learned how to make them think she's asleep. Don't tell."

"Hey Sammy, guess what we're having for dinner!" Stacey said.

"Uh, chicken teeth soup?"

"Way better!" Stacey said.

"Chicken don't even have teeth," Stevie said.

"They don't?" Sam asked. "Well then how can we have a soup made out of their teeth, huh? Riddle me that."

"Sam! Guess! Guess!"

"Uh, fried tennis balls?"

"Grilled greasy, grimy, gopher guts?" Blaine guessed.

"Ew!" Stacey said. Stevie seemed to think it was funny, though. "No, we're having breakfast for dinner!"

"Sweet!" Sam said. "My favorite! Come on, Blaine. Let's go say hi to my mom and dad." He held out his hand. Blaine took it at first, but then he chickened out and let go before entering the house.

Sam's parents were standing right inside the front door waiting for them. They both hugged him at once. "Now I feel like a jerk for not coming in right away," Sam said. "Why didn't you come outside if you knew we were here?"

"We wanted to give the kids first crack at you," Sam's father said.

Sam's mother kissed Sam once on each cheek, pushed him just far enough away that she could look at him, and pulled him in for another hug. "Mom..."

"Okay, okay," she said, letting him go. "Hi, Blaine!" She gave him a hug too, though not quite as intense as the one she'd given Sam. "How are you, Blaine?" she asked seriously. "How are things with your mom and...everything?"

"I'm all right, Mrs. Evans, thanks. My mother is..." Blaine had no idea how to finish that sentence? Was she happy with her douchebag boyfriend? Did Blaine even care? "She's handling things all right, I guess."

"You can call me Mary, Blaine. And...last I heard your father was in Chicago? How's he doing?"

"He's still there as far as I know. I haven't really spoken to him."

"Mom, please! Blaine just got here." Sam took Blaine's elbow and gently turned him toward his dad. "Blaine, this is my dad, Dwight Evans."

They shook hands and Blaine said, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Evans. Thank you, both of you, for having me for a visit."

"It's our pleasure, Blaine," Mr. Evans said. "And you can call me Dwight." He looked from Blaine to Sam to Mary and back to Sam. "Well, are you guys hungry?"

"Starving," Sam said.

"All right. I'll get started on the cakes." He headed to the kitchen.

"My dad makes the best pancakes," Sam told Blaine. "The _best. _Sometimes he puts chocolate chips in them. Are you gonna put chocolate chips in them, dad?"

"Maaaybe."

"Awesome!"

"Well, come on in and sit down, guys," Mary said.

"Sure, Mom. Well, actually..." He realized he and Blaine hadn't even talked strategy at all. Idiots! If only they hadn't been having...what would you call that? In-person phone sex? "Just let us bring our stuff in from the car first."

"Oh, sure. You guys will be sleeping in Stacey's room."

Blaine followed Sam back out to the car. Pupsaur immediately jumped on him again. Stacey yelled from across the yard, "Sam and Sam's boyfriend! Wanna play hide and seek with us?"

"Can't right now, Stace. We'd love to after dinner."

"Why are we sleeping in your sister's room?" Blaine asked Sam softly.

"Probably because it's the only room with two single beds. Stacey and Stevie used to share it before I moved back to Lima. Now Stevie sleeps in mine."

"Ah."

"But if I had a girlfriend visit, she'd probably make me sleep on the couch. Or, like, in a sleeping bag in the cellar. I guess she figures since we already live together..."

"If it weren't for all the other people in the house, it would be really romantic."

"So, I guess I should have asked you this before," Sam said, opening the trunk. "Do you wanna be there when I tell my mom? Cause if you'd rather, like, play hide and seek with the kids or something..."

Blaine grabbed his suitcase, which he had made a special trip to the mall to buy just for this road trip. Along with some new clothes to wear at Sam's parents'. And he'd stocked up on hair gel and other essentials too. Sam had all his clothes and things stuffed into his backpack. "I thought she already knew? Stacey said—"

"Yeah, but she doesn't know that I know that she knows. So she's gonna wait until I say something or _we_ say something."

"Oh. Well...I'll do whatever you want, Sammy."

Sam chewed on his lower lip while he thought about it. "I guess I'd...kinda like you there with me? If it wouldn't be too weird for you?"

Blaine rubbed his boyfriend's back. "Of course not. I'm here for you, you know that. Right?"

Sam placed a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's lips. "See? That's why I love you, dude."

Blaine leaned his forehead against Sam's. "I love you too. Dude."

They shared another quick kiss, and Sam slid his backpack over his shoulder and took the suitcase from Blaine's hand. "Well. Here we go, dude." Blaine followed him into the house, where they both walked through the living room to the hallway that led to Stacey's room without looking at Sam's mom. "What the hell should I say?" Sam asked after he had dropped their bags on the bedroom floor.

"Um...Well, remember how you broke the news to Kurt? That worked pretty well."

"What did I say to Kurt? I can't remember at all."

"You said, 'So, Blaine and I are dating.'"

"Just like that? I just came right out and said it?"

"Yep."

Sam chewed his lip again for a few seconds. "Okay. If you say so, I'll try it."

He marched into the living room and, before sitting down or waiting for Blaine or anything, announced loudly, "Blaine and I are dating."

Mary stood, crossed the room, and embraced her son. "Thank you," she said. "For telling me." Sam nodded. Mary spotted Blaine lingering outside the doorway. "Come on in, Blaine. You look so nervous. Can I give you a hug too?"

Blaine walked into the living room. "Yeah. Of course." Mary let go of Sam and gave Blaine a hug and a pat on the shoulder. She went back to her chair, but Sam and Blaine kept standing there. "Why don't you guys sit? You're making _me _nervous now." The boys sat next to each other on the love seat but tried not to touch. Too much. "So. Would you like to talk about your news, or..."

"Are you okay with it, mom? I mean, I'm not saying we'll stop if you're not, but...I'd really like you to be okay with it."

"You know, when the gay marriage amendment was on the ballot in Tennessee —the one to change the state constitution to ban it—I voted against it. I want you to know that, Blaine, and Sam. I believe in the Bible, but I don't believe it should be the basis of our laws. I do believe in the Constitution, the separation of church and state."

"Oh. Well, thank you, Mrs. Evans."

"Mary."

"Mary."

"But are you okay with me and Blaine?" Sam repeated.

"I'd be okay with it if you could promise me you weren't sleeping together."

Sam looked at Blaine, then down at his knees. "I can't promise you that, mom. I mean, if I thought you wanted me to lie to you..."

"No. I don't want you to lie to me." She took a deep breath. "Sam, honey, I'm really torn. I love you like crazy and I want you to be happy, but—"

"Blaine makes me happy, mom." He took Blaine's hand and squeezed.

"I know that. I can tell, just watching you guys. And Blaine honey, I think you're a lovely boy, a lovely young man. I don't want you to think I dislike you personally."

"Thanks."

"I have a responsibility to you, Sam. To raise you in our faith, to teach you right from wrong..."

"How could me loving Blaine be wrong?" Sam asked. Tears were streaming down his face. Blaine tightened his grasp on his hand. "Blaine is the sweetest, nicest, most thoughtful person I've dated. What kind of god would send me to hell for loving him?"

"Honey! God won't send you to hell for loving someone! God loves you."

"If you don't think I'll go to hell for it, then why are so against it?"

"I...I don't think God would send you to hell for shoplifting, but I still don't want you to do it."

"So it's just, like, a...what do you call a crime that's not a felony?"

"A misdemeanor?" Blaine suggested.

"Yeah. So it's just like a misdemeanor? I won't go to prison, maybe just a night in the city jail? Or like, I can still go to heaven, but not the really nice part?"

"Sam..."

"Dinner's ready!" Sam's dad yelled from the kitchen. "Sam, would you get your brother and sister and tell them to wash their hands?"

"Okay, dad."

"We'll talk more later, honey," his mother said.

"I'm not sure it's worth it," Sam said, wiping his eyes. "It sounds like we're at a...you know, when you're stuck and neither person will change their mind?"

"A standstill?" Blaine said. "An impasse?"

"Yeah. We are at an impasse."

XOXOXO

Blaine sat at the picnic table in the backyard, watching Sam play with his siblings and patting the head of the dog, which had finally calmed down around him a little. Mary came out the backdoor and sat next to him. "Not a hide-and-seek fan?" she asked.

"I'm not very good at it," Blaine said. "Apparently I find the kids too quickly and they don't like that."

Mary laughed. "Sam always pretends not to see them. It's a good thing they don't have any dangerous enemies; they'll never learn to hide properly."

"Your family really seems to have a lot of fun," Blaine said. It was sort of weird thing to say, given that dinner had been pretty tense, but he still felt it was true.

"The kids adore Sam. We do too, of course." They both watched the kids for several minutes without talking. Then Mary said, "I hope you won't think I'm butting in, but I'm sure your parents adore you too."

"Oh! I'm not so sure, but thanks."

"How could you think they might not? It's not because...?"

"Because I'm gay? No, it's unrelated. It's because they're selfish...jerks who only care about themselves."

"I met your mother, remember. I _know _she cares about you. I could tell. And your father...has he really not even called you since...since the fire?"

"He's called a few times and missed me," Blaine admitted. He left a voicemail on Thursday."

"See? I don't want to butt in, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want, but what did he say on the voicemail?"

"I...haven't actually listened to it."

"Oh. Well, I hope you will. He's probably worried about you."

Well, now Blaine was wondering. Maybe he did care; maybe he was worried. He could at least listen to the message. "Is there somewhere I could...?" he asked, indicating his phone.

"Of course. You can use Stacey's room. It's your room while you're here."

XOXOXO

"Cheater!" Stevie yelled.

"You're the cheater!" Stacey yelled back.

"Oh yeah? Well..." Stevie pointed his middle finger at his sister, but with his arm parallel to and his palm facing the floor.

Sam laughed.

"It means 'I hate you!'" Stevie told him.

"It means...it's kinda worse than 'I hate you.' Way worse, like you'll get in big trouble if a teacher sees you or mom or dad does. And besides, you're doing it all wrong. This is how you flip someone off," Sam said, and he demonstrated. He knew he probably shouldn't be teaching this to grade-school kids. But they seemed to know it already anyway, and he didn't want them to embarrass themselves by doing it wrong.

"Like this?" Stacey asked.

"The back of your hand has to be facing the person you're mad at," Sam explained. He repositioned her hand. "There, now you've got it!"

Their mother yelled out the backdoor, "Sam? Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Be right there," he yelled back. Before he went to see what she wanted he pulled the kids into a huddle. "If you tell mom and dad I taught you this, I will tickle you mercilessly." They actually loved when Sam tickled them "mercilessly," so this wasn't much of a threat. He ran to the door and warily asked his mother, "What's up?"

"Honey, could you check on Blaine? He went to Stacey's room to call his dad, and he's been in there a long time."

Sam found him lying on the bed closest to the wall, facing it. He lay down next to him, sort of hanging halfway over the edge of the bed, and put his arm around him. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked.

Blaine scooted over to give Sam more room before he responded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I had this voicemail from my dad, and your mom convinced me to call him back. She said she was sure my dad adored me and he was probably calling because he was worried about me, and I actually...Your mom is really...It's really sweet, actually, how she assumes all parents are like her."

"She's hardly perfect. In case you hadn't noticed, she still hasn't said she's okay with us dating."

"She will, though. She'll be okay with it once she gets used to the idea."

"You think so?"

"I'm positive. She actually really does adore you."

Sam thought about that. He couldn't disagree. He also couldn't reassure Blaine that his parents were equally adoring. He wished he could, but he couldn't do it honestly. "So, I take it you talked to your father and it was disappointing?"

"You could say that. He wanted to know..." Blaine turned over so he was facing Sam. "Get this. He got the report or whatever that...I think he said the fire department had given it to the insurance company or something. It turns out that it probably wasn't actually the cake that started the fire."

"You're shitting me! It wasn't our fault?"

"No, it was still our fault. Well, my fault actually. It said one of the burners on the stove was on, and there was some, like debris or remains or something, I forget what they called it, but it looked the fabric. They think the fabric probably caught fire from the burner."

"Fabric?"

"Yeah. So I had to think back and try to remember what kind of fabric we might have left on the stove, and I think I know what it was."

"Well?"

"Remember when I took your shirt off? I don't know where I dropped it, but I think we were pretty close to the stove. It could have fallen there."

"Holy shit. So it actually was _your_ fault."

"Well, I'll just point out that the report also noted that the fire would probably not have destroyed the whole house if the smoke detector had not been removed."

"Oh. Yeah, that was me, wasn't it?"

"As I recall, yes, it was."

"Forgive me?" Sam asked, stroking Blaine's cheek.

Blaine snuggled in closer to him. "You know I do."

Sam kissed his forehead. "Fucking watermelon gel. I'm all aroused now."

"I don't think we should..."

"No. I know. You owe me so big though." They kissed, but just softly. Neither of them wanted to risk getting too worked up. "What else did your dad say?"

"Actually, that was pretty much it. He'd gotten this report and he wanted to ask me why the hell the smoke detector was removed and what the hell kind of fabric I was leaving on the stove with the burner on. That's the thing I still don't get, by the way: how the burner got left on."

"God, Blaine. I'm sorry your dad's so..."

"Such a douchebag? Apparently that's my mom's type."

XOXOXO

Blaine didn't know the first thing about fixing cars, nor had he packed any clothes that would be suitable for working on a car in if he did. But Sam invited him to hang out in the garage while he and his dad worked on his, so he did. Sam set up a lawn chair for him, close enough that he could be part of the conversation but far enough that he wouldn't get greasy.

Sam still hadn't told his father that he and Blaine were dating, and though he was almost certain his mother had relayed yesterday's conversation to him, he felt like his dad should hear it officially from him.

Dwight and Sam stood and looked at the car. "So. What does she need, Sammy?"

"I've been having some problems with the brakes."

"What!?" Blaine said. "We drove here from Ohio in a car that the brakes were going out on?"

"No!" Sam assured him. "I didn't say they were going out, I just said they could use some work."

Sam had said _problems_, which was more serious than _could use work._ Blaine didn't point this out; he was just glad they were fixing the brakes—or "working on" them—now. He just hoped they knew what they were doing.

"So..." Sam said to his dad after they'd gotten the car jacked up and one of the tires removed. "Blaine and I are dating."

His father didn't look away from the car.. "I know that, Sam."

"Yeah, I figured you did. I just wanted to tell you so...I guess so you'd know I wasn't trying to hide it from you."

"I appreciate that."

"And, you know, it would really mean a lot to me if you were okay with it."

"I'm okay with it," he said simply.

Wait, what? "Really?"

"Of course really. Could you hand me that socket wrench?"

"Shit! I mean shoot! I should have told you first!"

"You really should have. Who was it who gave you the safe sex talk when you first started dating girls? Your mother or me?"

"You."

"That's right. And you're getting another one when we're done with these brakes." He turned to look at Blaine. "Both of you."

The talk, when it came, was as mortifying as they both expected it to be. Probably more so, in fact. They sat in lawn chairs in the garage, and Dwight started out with, "Now, I've been doing some research online..."

"Oh God, dad. Please tell me you have not been looking at gay porn."

"No. Not porn, research. But speaking of porn, you do know how to browse in a private window, right? Or clear your browser history?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Good. Because I'm sure Carole does not want any surprises popping up when she's Googling something innocent. Also, you are careful not to get any...fluids on the keyboard, right?"

"Oh, dear God, dad. Yes, I'm careful. Blaine, are you careful?"

"Yes."

"Good," Dwight said. "Now, the number one thing I've learned about anal sex is that you have to use lube. Okay? Do you know what lube is?"

"Yes, dad." By now Sam was pretty sure his dad was trying to make him die of embarrassment.

But he explained to them what lube was anyway and told them, "It's important to use enough lube so no one gets hurt." Dwight looked meaningfully at Blaine, and Sam realized his mother had told him about the sheets that needed to be washed. Sam hadn't mentioned that to Blaine, who looked confused on top of his embarrassment.

"Okay. Then you've got your condoms, which, obviously you don't have to worry about pregnancy, but you do have to worry about STDs, like AIDS, obviously, or herpes..." and on and on. He wrapped up his speech with, "You might be embarrassed to walk into a store and buy condoms and lube, but if you think you're mature enough to be having sex, then you have to be mature enough to do it responsibly. That said, I did get you something..." And he got up and unlocked a cabinet, from which he pulled a paper bag filled with condoms and lube. "Don't spend it all at one place."

XOXOXO

Sam and Blaine got up early Tuesday to drive back to Ohio. Everyone in Sam's family had to go to school or work, and Sam knew his mother didn't want him and Blaine to be alone in the house. "Sam and Sam's...Sam and Blaine!" Stacey said. Sam had asked her to call Blaine by his name. "Walk with us to the bus stop!"

Sam looked at his parents.

"Go ahead," Dwight said. "I need to leave right now or I'll be late." He hugged Sam and patted Blaine on the shoulder. "You kids be careful!" he said right before he drove off.

"Come on, Sam!" Stevie said.

"Go ahead," his mom told him. "I have a few minutes. We'll still have time to say good-bye."

"Sam, give me a piggy-back ride," Stacey said.

"No, give _me _a piggy-back ride," Stevie said.

"You know who's awesome at giving people rides?" Sam asked. "Blaine. He can even throw people in the air and catch them."

"Throw _me _in the air and catch me!" Stacey said.

"Well, it actually would take me a while to teach you how to be caught safely," he said. "But I could carry you on my shoulders."

"Okay," Stacey said. "Will you teach me how to land the next time you visit?"

"Sure."

Mary was waiting by Sam's car when they got back from seeing the kids off. She gave Blaine a big hug and Sam a bigger one.

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Ev—Mary."

"You're welcome any time, Blaine. I mean that."

"Well..." Sam said.

"Sam, I know what you want me to say. You want me to say I'm okay with you and Blaine dating, and with you having a sexual relationship. Here's what I _can _say, and I hope it'll be good enough for now. I can tell you're happy together, and that you're good to each other and for each other. I'm happy that you're happy. I love you, Sam, and I'm very fond of you, too, Blaine."

Sam hugged her. "Thanks, mom. That's good enough. For now."


	10. Conclusion

**A/N: So apparently chapter 9 wasn't as conclusiony as it should have been, so here is the new, actual, final conclusion. **

They were more or less silent as Sam drove them out of town. Blaine thought Sam was probably still thinking about his mother. He was right; that was exactly what Sam was thinking about. Just before hitting the freeway he finally spoke: "I think you're right, dude."

"I usually am," Blaine said. "But about what specifically?"

"That she'll be okay with us, eventually."

"I don't even think it'll take her that long. By summer definitely. She won't even bat an eye when we move in together in college." Oh crap, did he really just say that? Sam wasn't responding. He was freaking out. Why did he have to go and freak Sam out? "I mean, you know, not that we _have _to. Forget I said that, okay?"

"No, it's not that. I'd love to move in with you. It would be like now only way better because we'd have the place to ourselves all the time. It's just...college...I still haven't heard anything, and what if I don't even get in anywhere, and—"

"Sam. Baby." Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, felt Sam relax a little into his hand. "You will. There's plenty of time. Please, I hate to see you stressed."

"Well, there is one thing that might help...when we get home to an empty house..."

Blaine let his hand slide down onto his boyfriend's leg. "And we'll have all afternoon. Carole will be at work until five."

"It won't be long enough. Or soon enough."

Blaine leaned over to whisper in Sam's ear, which gave him chills. "How fast can you drive this thing? I'll pay the speeding tickets."

It turned out Sam's car could do ninety, ninety-five, no problem. Well, no problem with the car, anyway—there was still the problem of other drivers not being in as big a hurry as they were. Still, they made really good time. It was only midmorning when they were close enough to Lima that Sam said, "Remember how I told you I was going to bend you over the hood of this car and fuck the living daylights out of you?"

"Of course I remember. What do you think I was dreaming about when you caught me humping your sister's bed in my sleep?"

"Well start getting yourself ready for me now, baby. Because the _second_ we pull into the garage I am going to bury my cock in your ass. I'm going to bury it so deep we may never be able to extract the fucker."

"Oh fuck, Sam," Blaine moaned. "Where the hell's the lube?"

"I stuck a bottle in the pocket of your jacket, which you're also gonna need. You're mine. I can't let anyone else perv on you."

Reaching into the backseat for the jacket, Blaine reassured him, "I would never want anyone perving on me but you."

"Damn right."

"Also, you're so fucking hot when you get all possessive and bossy."

"Yeah?"

"_So _fucking hot." Blaine draped the jacket over his lap and pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees.

Sam watched him, while trying also not to look away from the road too much. "Uh-uh," he said. "Take them all the way off."

"But...what if a cop stops us?"

"All the way off!" Sam barked. He did slow down to close to the speed limit, though. Getting stopped by a cop now _would _be bad.

Blaine did as he was told, leaving the clothing bunched up on the floor next to his shoes. He looked at Sam, waiting for his next order.

"Throw them in the backseat. You won't need them for a while."

Again, he did as he was told. As he waited for Sam to tell him what to do next, his hand crept under the jacket and he started stroking himself.

"What are you doing, baby?" Sam asked him.

Blaine's hand froze. "Nothing. I mean...you were taking so long to say something..."

"You weren't touching your cock, were you?"

"No?" Blaine let his hand fall onto the seat. "I mean...not much. I just...fuck, Sammy, I just want you so bad."

"I know you do, Blainey. You're going to get me..._in your ass_. That's the only place I want you touching yourself. Got it?"

"Got it, Sammy."

"Good. Now bend your knees and put your feet up on the dashboard. Yeah, just like that. Scoot down in the seat a little...uh-huh...now spread your legs a little farther." God, Blaine was a sight like that—even with the jacket covering him. Sam wanted nothing more than to just take him right now. But he couldn't, not yet, so... "All right. Start slathering yourself with lube. I wanna be able to just slide right on it. Fuck yourself with your fingers to make room for me."

Blaine went to town on himself, not requiring any further instructions. He wiggled and squirmed and moaned and whimpered. He almost lost it a couple times when he imagined his fingers were Sam's dick. Thank God Sam had forbidden touching his own dick; he would have lost it for sure.

"Sam," he gasped. "How much longer till we're home?" He couldn't just open his eyes and see where they were. He was so overstimulated already that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to handle the added sensation of light. But he could tell that the car was going slower and stopping sometimes, so he knew they were off the freeway.

"Like five more minutes, baby. Maybe not even. Just hold on. I know you can wait for me."

"I don't know if I can. Five minutes is a really long time..."

"You better put your hands where I can see them, then."

Blaine whined and reluctantly clasped his hands together on top of his jacket.

"Good," Sam said. "Because even after I start fucking you, you have to hold on. You're just going to take my cock and you're not going to touch yourself and you're not going to come until _I _take your dick and jerk you off. If I decide to let you come at all."

"_If _you decide to...!? Sam!"

"I guess you better make me happy then." Wait, was this too far? "Ah, who am I kidding? You always make me happy, Blainey."

Blaine opened his eyes and smiled at him. "Thanks, Sammy. You always make me happy too."

Sam pulled into the Hudson-Hummels' driveway. He always parked on the street and didn't even have a garage door opener, so he had to get out and open the door manually. He would have made Blaine do it, but given his boyfriend's pantslessness it seemed too cruel. Getting back in the car and pulling into the garage, he said, "We're both about to be very happy. I hope you're ready."

"So ready," Blaine said.

Sam got out again and shut the garage door. "Out!" he ordered. Blaine threw his jacket into the backseat and climbed out of the car, naked from the waist down. After checking the floor to make sure there were no nails or anything lying around, Sam told him, "Hands on the hood."

Blaine placed his right hand on the hood but removed it quickly. "It's hot!"

"Shit. Are you all right?" Sam asked, to which Blaine nodded. "Good. Hands on the trunk, then."

Blaine walked around to the trunk and leaned down to put his hands on it. Sam stood behind him and positioned him so his cheek was resting against the trunk, his ass was far away enough from the car that his dick wouldn't be crushed against it, and his legs were spread. "Jesus fucking Christ," Sam said, admiring the scene before him. "Just look at you. I wish you could see yourself." He let his jeans and underwear drop to his knees and stroked himself a couple times.

Meanwhile, Blaine was getting restless and was swaying his hips impatiently. "I wish I could see _you_. But feeling you is going to be more than enough." He gasped when Sam moved closer and grabbed his hips. His cock was resting just outside his entrance. He heard a condom wrapper rip open. "You know you've never come in my ass yet? I mean, with a condom, of course, but still..."

"I've been saving it up."

"I hope you'll find it was worth the—_oh fuck, Sammy_!" All at once Sam was filling him. He felt him everywhere—not just in his ass, not just slamming into the sweet spot of his prostate, but in his knees, his fingertips, his scalp. Words were no longer under his command, just primal noises. "Aaaaaah! Ah ah ah ooooh! Uh uh..."

"Oh sweet Jesus, Blaine!" Sam gripped his hips even tighter and pounded him even harder. "Your ass is so...God, you feel so fucking..."

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

"That's right, baby. Scream for me. Fucking scream for me."

"AAAAAAAAH!" Blaine couldn't even think about what the neighbors might hear, or about anything else, just Sam's! Beautiful! Cock! Nailing him! And then—"Oh God! Oh fuck, Sammy!" Sam's hand, wrapped around his own cock.

"Come on, Blaine. Come for me. Scream while you fucking come for me. Oh God! I'm coming! Scream while you come with me!"

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! _Oh fuck, Sammy, oh fuuuck, Sammy! AAAAAAAAH!" His throat was raw, but he was still convulsing around Sam's dick, his hips still jerking of their own accord, his spunk still shooting out onto the car, onto Sam's hand, onto himself. He screamed until he couldn't anymore, until his screams devolved into whimpers, and his whimpers into panting as he finally started to come down and recover.

Sam's dick was softening but still inside him. Right where it belonged, he thought. Sam was slumped against him, his weight resting comfortably on Blaine's back. Blaine became aware of a stinging sensation on his shoulder, where he had only vaguely noticed when it was happening that Sam had bitten him.

"Cuddle in the backseat for a minute?" Sam asked sleepily.

"No!" He was not going to risk having Carole find them sleeping in the car with no pants on. "Pull your pants back up and we can cuddle upstairs." Carole probably wouldn't open the bedroom door and walk in on them, and even if she did at least they'd be dressed.

"Too tired...Too far to walk..."

"Come on, baby." Blaine slid out from under Sam, removed and discarded the condom, and pulled his pants back up. He grabbed his own pants from the backseat and guided his very sleepy boyfriend upstairs to his bed. By the time he had put his own pants back on and was ready for a cuddle, Sam was fast asleep.

XOXOXO

The rest of spring break was awesome. Burt and Kurt were gone, Carole was at work all day...they had worried a little about the possibility that Finn* might drop by. Sam decided to nip that in the bud by taking the direct approach. As soon as they woke up from their nap after the drive home, Sam called him.

"Hey, Finn. How's it going?"

"Awesome, dude. There was this frat party last night—"

"That's awesome, Finn. Listen, I'm actually calling for a reason. So, you know how it's just Blaine and me in your house while your mom's at work during spring break?"

"No, I hadn't thought about that."

"Yeah, I actually thought you might not have. So, me and Blaine are pretty much planning on fucking at every opportunity."

"Dude! Why did you have to tell me that?"

"Sorry. I know you didn't want to hear that. I just thought you'd probably be even less happy if you walked in on it."

"Dude!"

"Yeah. So don't come over for a while, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for the warning, I guess. Now I have to go scrub my brain clean."

And they did fuck at every opportunity—which was pretty much whenever they weren't sleeping after the previous time they'd fucked. They fucked on just about every piece of furniture (except in Carole and Burt's room), in the shower, on the floor, against the wall, on the stairs, in the backseats of both their cars (in the garage; they weren't maniacs)...

No one ever, _ever_ returned to school from spring break more refreshed and relaxed than Sam and Blaine.

The slushies some football players hit them with on Monday just rolled off their backs. Literally, because they managed to turn right before impact, but also figuratively. If those losers were getting laid half as much as they were, they wouldn't care who anyone else was fucking.

They were almost entirely carefree that whole week. (It helped that they were still getting some fucking in between getting home from school and Carole getting home from work.) The only thing that put a damper on their good moods was when Blaine's mom called on Friday and insisted that the next day Blaine come look at this house she and her boyfriend were planning to buy.

Blaine brought Sam along, naturally. He didn't tell his mother he was planning to. He knew she wouldn't like it, but that was just tough shit. If she tried to make Sam leave, he would leave too.

Even after an amazing blowjob from Sam (albeit a quiet one because Carole was home), Blaine was a nervous wreck on the drive to the new house. "She's gonna try to make me live with them."

"She can't make you do anything," Sam reminded him. "You're an adult. An adult who's totally corrupted a minor, by the way. You're so bad."

This made Blaine smile, but only for a minute. "I love you, baby. But don't talk dirty to me right now. I have to concentrate."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, squeezing Sam's hand to show he wasn't mad. He drove quietly while he thought about what Sam had said about his being an adult. Not the criminal implications—they had looked up the legal age of consent in Ohio and it was sixteen so they were fine—but the other legal implications. "You're right. She can't force me. But she could cut me off financially."

"Oh," Sam said. "Would she, though, do you think?"

"I have no idea. And if she even just threatened it, I don't know if I'd be able to tell whether she was bluffing."

"What about your dad?" Sam didn't know that much about Blaine's family's financial situation—except that it wasn't especially a concern for them—but he'd always had the impression that Blaine's dad made more money than his mom did.

"I guess. I mean, I'd have to talk to him, probably even be nice to him. But it would beat being..."

Sam put his hand on Blaine's knee. "You can say it, baby. It would beat being poor. Being poor sucks; no one in their right mind would choose it unless the only alternatives were even worse. I'm not sure having to be nice to your dad qualifies as worse—I'm not even sure having to live with your mom and her douchebag boyfriend for a few months before college qualifies—but you're a better judge of that than me."

"But if I had to move out of the Hudmel house..."

"I know. I'd totally miss having you there all the time. But, you know...most kids our age don't get to have live-in boyfriends. It's a luxury."

Blaine sighed. "You're so...so level-headed when you're getting regular sex."

"I know, right? Another good reason for you to not start neglecting your boyfriendly duties."

Blaine pulled into the driveway of the new house, _new_ not being a figure of speech. Construction had obviously just finished; lots of other houses in the subdivision were only half-complete. The house they were there to look at, the soon-to-be Anderson-Doyle house (unless his mother planned on changing her name after the divorce), was an ugly, beige, cookie-cutter McMansion. "I can't believe she wants to live _here._"

They were the first ones there, so they walked around and looked at the yard. There was no landscaping or anything; just a bright green lawn, the kind where you could still see the lines from where each roll of sod started and stopped. The backyard had a six-foot privacy fence around it; there was nothing back there to protect yet but a deck off the kitchen and a little tool shed back in the corner. "This is a perfect yard for a dog," Sam observed. "If you do end up moving here, you should totally make her get you a dog."

When they got back around to the front, the Realtor was there. "Hi," she said, holding out her hand—to which one of them they couldn't tell. "I'm Mary Alice Carter. You must be the sons?"

Sam was the one who took her hand and shook it. "We're the son and the son's boyfriend." He didn't bother to tell her which was which, and he regretted his rudeness a little when he realized she wasn't showing any kind of negative reaction to them being boyfriends. Before he could rectify things, Blaine's mom and her boyfriend pulled up.

Mrs. Anderson got out of the passenger's side and walked straight to Blaine without acknowledging—possibly without even noticing—Sam. She hugged him, asked how he was, congratulated him on the New Directions' win at regionals. "Your solo was so beautiful," she said. "I was so proud of you. _Am_ so proud of you."

"How did you know I had a solo?" It was probably just a lucky guess. An assumption, even, since he usually had one.

"You didn't think I wouldn't go, did you? Even though you didn't invite me?"

Blaine looked at her skeptically. He did, in fact, think she wouldn't go.

"Do I need to prove to you that I was there?" When Blaine didn't answer she sang some of the lines of his solo to him. "I even saw you two holding hands for a second at the end."

Mr. Doyle walked up behind her. "Oh, you must be talking about Blaine's killer solo at regionals. Great performance, really outstanding. Both you guys." He shook Blaine's hand, then Sam's.

Blaine's mom shook Sam's hand too, finally. "Of course. Your singing was lovely too, Sam." She gave Blaine a look that Sam couldn't totally interpret, except to know that it wasn't unbridled enthusiasm about Sam's presence. "You're here for moral support, I take it?"

"Exactly," Blaine said, taking Sam's hand.

Ms. Carter had been standing back, but she stepped forward now. "Good to see you again Sharon, Jason. Are you ready to show the boys the inside?"

"Yes," Sharon said. "But first...Blaine, honey, what do you think of it so far? Just from the outside? Isn't the big backyard great?"

"The big backyard is boring and the house itself is tacky and ugly. At least our old house had some character."

"And it burned to the ground."

"Are you going to keep reminding me of that?"

"Reminding you? Are you in danger of forgetting it otherwise?"

Jason put his arm around Blaine's mom's shoulders and said to her softly, "Maybe we should just go inside?"

Ms. Carter started the tour. Mrs. Anderson nodded along while she showed them the kitchen and pointed out various features like the hard-wired smoke detectors (with battery backup) and all the granite and stainless steel and the stove with burners that shut off on their own if they were left on too long. "What if I want to make a...a stew or something that's actually supposed to simmer for a long time?" Blaine said.

"I don't want you making any long-simmering stews!" his mom snapped.

"Don't worry, because I won't be living here," Blaine shot back.

"I don't want you making any long-simmering stews anywhere. _Especially_ somewhere that I'm not able to protect you!" Everyone looked at her for a minute, all of them stunned, before she slid down the kitchen wall and sat on the floor, holding her head in her hands.

"Honey..." Jason said.

Blaine looked around. Sam obviously didn't know what to do. The Realtor had disappeared. He crouched down in front of his mother. "Mom..."

She looked at him through her tears and took his hands. "Blaine, the first thing I thought when the hospital called was that you could have died. I hope if you have kids you never have to deal with one of them almost dying because you weren't there to protect them. 'I almost lost my baby, I almost lost my baby,' that's all I could think. And now..." She stifled a sob. "I know this isn't what you wanted, the situation with your dad and me, and with Jason. But I went from being terrified that I almost lost you to being terrified that I actually am losing you because you hate me now, you don't want to have anything to do with me."

"I don't hate you, mom."

Sam felt like an intruder, a voyeur. He couldn't just keep standing there and watching. He backed out of the kitchen and went out the front door. Mr. Doyle was right behind him. "This has been so hard on Sharon," he said. "She didn't want to burden Blaine with it, but I think it's good that they're finally talking."

"Yeah." Sam hadn't actually given much though to her, except to be pissed at her on Blaine's behalf. "So...do you think they'll be a while? Do you wanna buy me another beer?"

Mr. Doyle punched him on the shoulder. "Sure, why not? Blaine can give his mother a ride home. Or if it ends badly, Mary Alice can." He gestured to the car the Realtor was sitting in. "I don't think she can leave while people are in the house anyway. Just don't tell _your _mother, okay? I don't need any more motherly drama." He unlocked his car doors and got in.

Sam got in the passenger side. "Don't worry," he said. "She's not the dramatic type. Besides, she's in Kentucky."

Jason, as he told Sam to call him, ended up taking him bowling. And he only bought him one beer, despite Sam's attempts to talk him into more. But he bought him all the Diet Coke and Cool Ranch Doritos he wanted, and they actually had a pretty decent time. It was still a little uncomfortable—which more beer would no doubt have helped with—but all in all it was okay.

When he dropped Sam off at home a few hours later, Blaine and his mom and Carole were sitting around the kitchen table talking. He wanted to give them as much privacy as they needed, but he also really wanted to just check in quickly, make sure Blaine was all right.

He stood behind his boyfriend, placed his hands on his shoulders, and bent down to kiss his cheek. Unfortunately that put his nose in close proximity to Blaine's hair, specifically to the watermelon-scented gel that never failed to turn him on. Well, later. Later he'd help Blaine relax after what must be a very stressful day. Right now he just whispered, "How are you doing, baby?"

"Good. Really."

"Good." The next part was whispered again: "Stupid fucking gel."

Blaine smiled. He knew what that meant.

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt," Sam told the group at large. "I'll just be upstairs doing some homework..."

"Actually, Sam, why don't you sit?" Carole said. "Sharon and Blaine are going out for a bite, but you and I should talk."

Blaine stood and hugged him. "You sure everything's good?" Sam whispered.

"As far as I'm concerned everything's great," Blaine whispered back. "But tell me when I get home if you feel differently."

Sam sat down and waited until he heard Blaine and his mother walk out the front door before he asked Carole what was going on.

"I'll skip the parts you already know, about the new house and Sharon wanting Blaine to move back in with her and her...Well, you know that part. And the part about Blaine saying he wasn't ready to do that yet."

"Wait, _yet_?" Sam wouldn't stand in the way of Blaine living with his mom if that's what he wanted. He just...maybe it was for the best, but he just didn't think that was what Blaine wanted.

"Well, and he might not ever be."

Sam tried not to react with visible relief. He just said, "Yeah. I know that part."

"And it might end up being a moot point, because Sharon and..."

"Jason," Sam supplied, although he didn't really think Carole had so much forgotten the man's name.

"Right. Sharon and Jason won't even be able to take possession for another month at least. But when that time comes, if Blaine hasn't changed his mind, Sharon has decided not to force him to move in with them."

"She didn't say she, like, wouldn't pay for college if he didn't, did she?"

"No, of course not."

Sam seriously felt like doing a cartwheel or something, even though he could tell Carole wasn't done.

"Burt and I are more than happy for Blaine to stay here as long as he wants. But we want to know what you think, honestly."

"What do you mean? I _love_ having Blaine here. I thought that was obvious." They'd been trying to be discreet enough not to make it graphically obvious, but still, how could there be any doubt that he was thrilled with the situation?

"Yes. It is." Carole smiled fondly. "But we just want you to think about...You guys are so young. And your relationship is so new. Not your _friendship_," she added when she sensed that Sam was going to object, "but your...what you so sweetly call your dating. And we're just afraid that you guys don't realize yet what a strain living together can put on a...dating relationship. Even without having to worry about bills and some of the other things that would come with having an apartment together, just the two of you...just being around the person you're dating _all the time_ can get to be difficult."

"But I _never_ get tired of being around Blaine."

"No, and I haven't heard you fight yet either, because the relationship is still so new. But you will get tired of being around him all the time and you will fight."

Sam shook his head. Carole was very nice to be concerned, but frankly she was being a little...like, okay, he and Blaine would probably have disagreements from time to time. He wasn't naive about that kind of thing. But he would never not want to see Blaine every single day—at school _and _at home—and he was pretty sure Blaine felt the same way about him.

"I know you don't believe me. And I'm not even trying to convince you. I'm just telling you now so that if you and Blaine ever do decide it's too much, you'll know that there are other options. Other options that don't mean breaking up necessarily. Blaine is going to have a bedroom at the new house. His mother isn't going to force him to live there permanently, but she does want him to spend some time there, and Blaine has agreed to try it at least. And also...if being together all the time ever does get to be too intense...well, the new house is there, that's all I'm saying."

"So..." Sam still couldn't envision a scenario in which he'd want to send Blaine away, though he guessed if Blaine ever wanted to get away from him for a while he could try not to be too hurt by it. But he did want to know, "What does 'spend some time there' mean? Like a child-of-divorce split custody thing, or...?"

"Sort of. Though custody doesn't actually factor in because of Blaine's age. But he and his mother are going to work out a schedule of some sort. I think they both want to try to repair their relationship."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Yeah, of course. But...he can still stay here most of the time? If that's what he wants?"

"That's the plan."

Sam smiled. "You're awesome, Carole. Have I told you that before?"

"Yes. But not nearly often enough."

"You're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome, you're awesome—"

"Okay, okay."

"Seriously. I'm gonna, like..." He was going to say cook her dinner, but then he wondered if Carole might not trust him around a stove any more than Blaine's mom trusted him. "I'm gonna go scrub the bathroom."

"Oh! Well, thanks, Sam. You're awesome too."

Sam scrubbed the bathroom—his and Blaine's, not Carole and Burt's, which he never went in—and he took a shower. Blaine was still with his mom and he was a little restless so he lifted some of Finn's weights in the basement. And yes, he did sometimes work out _after _showering because Blaine really liked that for some reason. Sam suspected he'd find that pretty gross if he thought about it much, so he tried not to.

Blaine got home from dinner with his mother and found his hunky blond boyfriend all shirtless and sweaty at the weight machine. Sam ran over to him and lifted and twirled him. "You get to stay!"

"I get to stay!"

"But if you ever don't want to, if you need some space or whatever, you know, it's okay, I'll totally understand."

"My mom and Carole gave me that speech too." Blaine stroked Sam's cheek and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. Then tender turned to forceful and their teeth and tongues and Sam's neck got involved. "You smell dirty," he said.

"You smell watermelony."

"You think she'll hear us?"

"Nah. We've had lots of practice being quiet when we need to."

And if Carole happened to turn the sound up on the TV a few minutes later, she would have said it was for no particular reason, certainly not because there were any noises she'd rather not know about emanating from the basement.

**THE END. LIKE, FOR REAL.**

*I don't know what to say that hasn't already been said, better than I could.


End file.
